


How I Started Living In A Story

by AnJoanGrey



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Sarek, Becoming a Star Trek character changes their lives forever, Characters write Fan-Fiction and publish it on AO3, Exceptionally BAMF Sarek, Falling in love with the abuser, Father-Son Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Taliban Army and Acts of Terror, Mentions of deserting from Taliban army + consequences, Mentions of rape and abuse (no graphic descriptions), Please take all these warnings into consideration, Pretending to be Star Trek characters, Sarek-centered story, Spock-Sarek from hate to love (no incest), True story of how Star Trek can change one's life, Very dark Sarek evolving to a better person, mentions of Afghanistan war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-06-07 07:06:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 39,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15213806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnJoanGrey/pseuds/AnJoanGrey
Summary: You never believe that you could actually live inside that story you love, with the characters you adore and dream about. And one day, it so happens that the story becomes stronger than reality itself and it… absorbs you.This is the real story of two people who pretended to be Star Trek characters for a while. It happened to be their doom… and also their salvation.It all starts when a badly wounded patient has trouble saying his name to the doctor: It starts with Sp... And he doctor, to enlighten his mood, says: Spock, like in Star Trek! Coincidentally or not, the doctor's name happens to be Leonard.Spock writes stories on AO3, which he signs with a pseud. Leonard has read them.A different kind of story. A story of when we become the characters. A true story.





	1. I Shall Call You Spock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Surmarillion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Surmarillion/gifts).



                                                      

 

He was blinking rapidly, trying to remove the thick fog obscuring his judgment and his sight altogether. His head was spinning; no, the entire room was spinning – and he felt he was going to throw up any minute now. He instinctively tilted his head to the right.

“Easy now, breathe deeply, you are safe. Your vision will clear soon,” an encouraging voice was talking near him. He felt a hand resting on his arm and it was comforting.

He followed the instructions; he was in no mood of vomiting. The spasms in his stomach reduced gradually. He made another attempt at opening his eyes. This time, knowing someone was there to assist him in case something went wrong, he patiently waited for the vision to clear by itself.

“Don’t try to talk just yet. My name is Leonard; I am your doctor. You are safe. You are at the hospital.”

He blinked once, to let the doctor know he had understood. He knew he was being watched carefully, so this incipient sign-language could be easily decoded by an experienced physician. But then, he gave him a questioning look, he needed to know what had happened. He had ended in numerous hospitals so far; but this time, it seemed slightly worse than the usual.

“You took a severe beating. You have three broken ribs, one of which has punctured your left lung during CPR. Also, a broken mandible, which has not been fixed yet, so I will ask you not to attempt to talk, for this very reason.”

Yes, he remembered now; they were many, and even more so, they were angered to learn his identity. Being his father’s son had caused him nothing but trouble so far in life. His doom and his inescapable curse.

Leonard’s hand was still resting on his arm and it felt good. He wished he could feel that touch forever.

“Now, the police have already determined this was a robbery, plain and simple. They did not catch them, but progress is being made. They have CCTV footage. You were brought without any ID. You will need to communicate your name to me.”

That was the last thing he wanted to do. As soon as people learn his name, there was an instant dislike and even hate – because he was the son of his father.

He felt a crayon, or a pen of some sort being placed between his fingers. He deduced there was a paper under it.

“We are in no hurry, try and write letter by letter, we’ll make pauses.”

He took a deep breath. It was unavoidable, he supposed.

He drew an S, and then a P.

He felt exhausted.

“Sp…” the Doctor read. “Rest, there is no need to hurry as I said. Let me see if I can guess it… uh, okay, you’ll blink when I get it right, yeah? Spud? No? Hm… Spiridon? Speedy? Like in Speedy Gonzales?”

He smiled. The Doctor was funny.

“Okay, this is difficult. Running out of ideas…. Spyke? No? Spock? Like in Star Trek?”

He wanted to laugh – and the monitors lit up vividly, beeping and signalling an increased heart-rate and blood pressure and Leonard cursed and started working efficiently to stabilize him again.

“Sorrysorrysorry. It is probably way too early for this _Who are you?_ discussion and I have totally forgotten to tell you that you should not laugh either, Mr. Spock. For now, you got yourself a nickname, and if I look better you even look like that guy from the new movies, you know them? Those with Chris Pine and that other one, what was his name, it was with a  <Z> or something… nevermind… it just occurred to me that my name is Leonard, oh well what do you know, we are quite a pair…”

All that nonsensical chatter was aimed at distracting the patient’s attention from the draining of blood through a tube which was inserted in between his ribs. The patient was half-conscious now and Leonard hoped that he could maintain his awareness and reduce his distress at the same time. Fortunately, he was good at talking.

It was his turn, now, to take a deep breath.

“Okay, Spock, listen up. Will have the discussion about your name tomorrow. Until then, because I really dislike naming my patients <John Doe>, your name will be Spock. By your smile and the laughing which nearly sent you into shock – by the way, don’t do that for some time, okay? – I can see that the idea is not averse to you. Are you on Facebook, by the way?”

Spock – on his newly given nickname – signalled that he was not.

“Oh, a pity. I could have snapped a picture and run it through the Facebook face recognition tool. That stuff is better than the FBI’s. By the way, you are not in the FBI’s database.”

Spock knew that. His identity had to be protected at all costs, all the time, so that daddy didn’t have problems.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to read the full name on Leonard’s badge.

The Doctor noticed his intention.

“Dr. Leonard Cain, MD, PhD, Chief of Surgery and other boring stuff,” Leonard read the badge information for him, and his eyes became warmer when he saw that the patient smiled.

“You like what you found out?”

He blinked to say Yes.

“You’re in good hands, Mr. Spock, you do not need to worry about that.”

Spock knew that, and the certainty reflected in his eyes.

“You seem content,” Leonard continued, “which makes me believe that you are someone important, perhaps an actor or politician, but those people are usually in the Police database for protection, and you are not, so you must be some kind of a VIP.”

Spock gave him a puzzled look.

“Oh, I know that look. You are now wondering if I am Sherlock Holmes. You are not far from truth. Through the Trauma doors, each day, there is an endless flow of patients who pass through my hands and who very often cannot talk for weeks. I have specialised in deducing reading the subtle changes on their face, to help identify them quicker. Being a detective helps in my work.”

Spock smiled.

“Your family must be frantically looking for you.”

Spock closed his eyes. He did not want to think about _his family_ for now.

Leonard remained standing near him, reading the signs of distress.

“That is alright, do not think of that now. We’ll have time tomorrow. Now, you should rest; I am on duty for the next 20 hours, so not going anywhere, but I will have to see my other patients as well and I have two more surgeries. Tomorrow, if you are stable enough, you will go through the mandible reconstruction surgery, but we will have to deal with the problem of your identity before that, for insurance issues. You know how things are in our country.”

Spock’s fingers found the pen, forgotten on the bed and signalled he wanted to write something.

Leonard rushed to place his mini-notebook under his hand.

_I’ll pay cash. Do not worry._

“You’ll pay cash? Good God, man, we are talking about 500 K here, at least.”

_No worries_ , Spock scribbled.

“Hmm… Okay. Something tells me you are telling the truth. You need me to phone to someone?”

_I will, when I cam toek_

“You will, when you can talk. Okay, that is cool. So now, that you are able to write a bit more, how about you write your name down so I can address you properly and stop startrekking you?”

He smiled. He wrote:

_Spock._

“Ha, ha, good joke. Okay Spock. That is good. Now, I shall apply you a mild sedative, because as incredible as it may seem, we do not have the Star Trek technology here! What I wouldn’t give for one of those fancy scanners or that thing which regenerates tissues, what is its name… ah! A tricorder! Therefore, since we do not have those, I shall have to put you to sleep the good-old fashioned way, which is through propofol. I will come to check you up constantly, and I even hope I shall be able to take a nap in the room next to yours, which is empty. You think I talk too much?”

He blinked twice, affirmatively.

Leonard laughed – and for some reason, that serene laugh filled Spock’s heart with joy.

 

It was not unusual for Leonard to camp near his critically injured patients. Several hours later, he came by to see him, discretely signalling his resident to leave them for a moment.

He pulled a chair and sat down near his patient, after making sure all his vitals were stable. Their eyes met for a moment and none of them spoke – the patient because he could not, and the doctor because, right now he was at a loss of words.

But there WAS a silent understanding between them and both of them knew it.

“So, um… are you watching FIFA?”

Spock signalled discretely that No, he did not watch FIFA at all.

“Not much into football, huh? So, what do you do for a living, Spock? Besides being a famous Star Trek character and all, which is my merit.”

Spock smiled, and it was Leonard’s turn to feel his own heart filling with unknown joy. He pushed those thoughts away and gave him the pen, because he was fidgeting, and the paper.

Spock drew a terribly out-of-shape treble clef.

“Music? You’re a rock star!”

Spock closed his eyes and thought Leonard was infuriating. A rock star! What funny ideas he had.

“Oh my! You are not talking to me anymore. Let me see. Not a rock star. Opera singer?” he tried again, seeing that his eyes were still closed. “Not opera singer either. Player of… an instrument? Oh boy they are many, no idea… you have long, strong fingers. You must play the piano… are you a pianist?”

Spock opened his eyes a little, looking at him through his eyelashes. He wanted to determine just how good the doctor was at deducing.

“So, you DO play the piano, but you are not a pianist as such. Mhm. That means you have another profession where piano is needed. Jazz-player? No? You are being purposely difficult. Hmmm. Film composer?”

His eyes were almost fully opened now.

“I wonder what did I get right. Film or composer. Well, if you were to be a film-guy, you would have been an actor or producer, and we already determined you are a musician, so that leaves us with composer. Composer! Good God, man! Are you a classical music composer?”

Spock looked at him, with his eyes fully open and a beautiful, albeit fragile smile. Every muscle which was moving on his face was causing him excruciating pain, and gosh, it took human beings the usage of 13 muscles to smile, he had once read.

“A very famous one? Okay that was silly. No one tells about themselves, you know, I’m very famous! So, is your music on YouTube?”

He signalled that Yes, his music was on YouTube.

“Are you signing it with your own name, that which you won’t tell me?”

He signalled that No, of course he wasn’t doing that. No one would even listen, if that was the case.

“So, there are no chances in hell to deduce your true identity if I stumble on your music on YouTube?”

_No chances at all_ , he wrote on the note-book.

“Okay, cool. So, give me a tune title to look up.”

There was no movement of the hand holding the pen.

“What, what? Oh, perhaps _tune_ is not the best word. I know absolutely nothing about classical music, ugh, what are you guys calling your stuff… melodies? No? Musics? Okay, that was not even in English. Hmmmm, gosh, the only classical music I have ever listened to was Jules Massenet’s _Meditation_ something. **Opus**! Right! I remembered. Am I behaving better?”

_Yes_ , came the written answer and Leonard laughed wholeheartedly. And then, painstakingly and all over the page, he wrote: _No words were needed between them anymore._

“No words were needed between them anymore…” Leonard read. “Hmmm, are you telling me romantic things? Already? You know, the doctor-patient ethics… oh! It is the title of the… thethethe opus thing!”

_Yes, silly._

Leonard took his phone and launched the YouTube app. He typed the name of the work and arrived at a fairly discrete channel – not a lot of visitors, not a lot of tunes either, there were a few with lots of comments and likes and there seemed to be musical discussions ongoing, of which he understood nothing. The composer’s name was AnJoan Grey. The name seemed vaguely familiar.

“This is how you sign your music? AnJoan Grey?”

Spock signalled that Yes, this was how he had chosen to sign his music.

“Why sign it with a pseudonym? I bet your real name, I am sure, is very beautiful as well.”

_No_ , came the written answer.

“Have you done something… really despicable, so that people hate you?”

_No,_ came the new answer.

“Okay, hm. Following up on my deductions, you won’t tell me your name, and I happen to be your doctor, God damn! Furthermore, you will not sign your music with your true name. But you have not done something despicable. And you are young, but you did not ask for the presence of your family. Therefore, your family, one of your closed ones – mother or father – is someone really bad, someone you are ashamed or afraid of, and you do not want them by, and you think that if you tell me your name, I will think very little of you.”

Leonard stopped, looking at him for a feedback.

Tiredly, Spock focused his attention and energy on the pen.

_Good job, Sherlock._

Leonard smiled, but there was a certain sadness in his eyes.

He put his headphones on and pressed on _Play_ , to listen to _No Words Were Needed Between Them Anymore_. Strange feelings of deja-vu invaded his consciousness; it was as if he had heard that music before, he had met this man before… and he did not believe in any of the deja-vu nonsense, like you had allegedly met that person in a previous life, blah blah…

As the music went on, beautiful, sad and haunting, he closed his eyes, trying to decipher the intentions, the secluded thoughts of the mystery patient in front of him. It was important; not for insurance reasons, hospitals always managed to find means to extract the necessary funds from those being treated; it was not his job. It was important for him at a personal level, and he knew it should not be so, but he could not help himself.

This music…

This man, signing his music with the pseudonym AnJoan Grey. He wondered if this nickname was an anagram of his real name, but there were no “S” and no “P” in this name. Perhaps it was just a random nickname with no significance.

So, he was the son of someone… bad.

Some criminal?

Someone people knew and hated.

People hated a lot, so he really could not narrow it down any more than this. He wished… Spock trusted him.

Funny to call him thus, but it seemed he had embraced the nickname without reserve.

“You know…” he said, putting the phone away on a chair and removing his headphones, turning to look at him. But then he stopped. His patient had fallen asleep, his breath steady, as well as his heart rate and blood-pressure. He was tired. It was good that he was resting, tomorrow was going to be difficult.

He extended his hand to take the pen and the notebook from his hand. He then noticed that another message had been scribbled whilst he had listened to the music:

_I do not wish for you to hate me. You matter._

Leonard sighed.

“You too, you idiot…” he murmured, knowing he would not be heard. “And that too, after only a few hours.”

He bookmarked the YouTube link:

[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuN49xLvQmI&feature=youtu.be](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuN49xLvQmI&feature=youtu.be)

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


	2. I Read Your Fan-Fiction Stories On AO3

The surgery had gone very well, Leonard was pleased. His patient had been in ICU for the next 48 hours and he had watched over him almost the entire time.

“Anyone asking about him?” he inquired, giving Jeff – his resident, a weary look.

“No, Doctor. No one reported anyone missing for the past two weeks and no one has phoned us, or any other hospital in the city, to ask about anyone with his characteristics. He is not… missing.”

“And yet, he is. I cannot believe no one is looking for him. He is young! Anyway, okay. Keep surveying this and let me know as soon as you have something to go on. I cannot keep on calling him Spock.”

“The entire floor is now calling him Spock, and oh, by the way, they are calling you Bones.”

“Huh? Bones?”

“That was that dude’s nickname, you know? The doc’ from Star Trek.”

“Oh, great. Now all we need is Captain Kirk. I’ll message Shatner on Twitter, perhaps he comes up with some ideas…”

Jeff laughed at that, carefully closing the door behind him.

Leonard refocused his attention on his patient who was just opening his eyes. He felt his own heart-beat accelerate and he was happy that he himself was not connected to a monitor, to betray his emotion. This was ridiculous, he should not be so affected by a patient, and even so, he was. He uselessly looked at all the displays showing his patient’s condition. He was well.

“Hello there,” Leonard smiled, and it may be silly and stupid, but he took his hand.

He received a smile back and he felt a thumb slowly caressing his fingers.

And for a moment, he was at a loss of words.

He took a deep breath, feeling stupid and emotional and a bit foolish.

“Leonard,” his patient murmured.

Gosh, he had no idea his name sounded so good, Leonard thought!

“I wish I could say your name too, but I do not know it…” he replied, with a trace of reproach in his voice.

“Spock,” he said.

“This joke cannot go on forever, Spock,” Leonard frowned, and he really did not want to frown at him.

“I know. Insurance and payment things. I shall sort them out if you can bring me a phone.”

“I need to write a name on your chart, God damn it! You know…” he said, upset now and for good reasons, coming closer to him – “you know, they may ask for a psychiatric consult!”

There was a minute of silence.

“Give me a bit more time,” he then murmured. “Be a doctor if you cannot be a friend… or…”

“Or what?”

“Or that which I thought we felt. If you cannot do otherwise, be a doctor and do not ask me my name at least until I have gone out of the ICU unit. I promise I shall not bring any prejudice to your hospital and I shall not go out the window like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible, without paying.”

“It is not that… your constant refusal is… painful. I feel you do not trust me enough, that you believe I would… despise you.”

“You WILL despise me. So let me live in the sweet illusion that you like me, just a bit longer.”

Angry, Leonard left the room. DAMN HIM!

“Everything okay, doc’?” Jeff asked, seeing him with his face all red and seemingly upset.

“I’m fine, Jeffrey.” he said leaning against the wall and taking a few deep breaths. “Please see to the John Doe patient’s needs and assign him a psychiatric consult. Call the Police officers for the necessary statements as soon as he is out of ICU.”

“Sure thing, doc’…” he said, giving his mentor a thoughtful look. “But if I may offer a medical opinion?”

“What medical opinion?” he almost growled, he seemed to be unable to stand anything anymore.

“You are a bloody idiot.”

Leonard blinked, as he remained alone on the corridor.

 

He decided to go home. His shift had long ended but he was always staying at the hospital for one reason or another… he practically lived in an endless shift and only went home for an hour or two, every now and then, to shave and shower and feed the fish in the tank.

He was upset – and, as nearly every other person experiencing… severe heartache, he decided to fill his time with things that would keep his mind otherwise occupied. He had full 24 hours off. He stopped at Mardi Gras Zone and bought fresh vegetables, fruit, almonds, toothpaste, a new toothbrush, shaving gear, a deodorant and other stuff he had put off for far too long; he loaded the bags in the car and made another stop at the pet-store from where he bought fish-food and new tools to clean the aquarium.

He drove home and brought all the groceries inside the apartment.

Oh gosh, this place needed to be cleaned.

He was going to be busy and it was fine. No time to think of useless stuff that did not even concern him.

He took care of the fish and made himself a huge salad. Being a Buddhist and a vegetarian made nourishment simple and complicated at the same time.

He should watch a movie but damn! All he had – in terms of DVDs and downloaded files on his external hard-drive… was Star Trek. And he sure as hell did not want to see that infuriating, green-blooded hobgoblin called Spock.

He really didn’t know why… no, he will not think of that.

He took his tablet and typed AnJoan Grey on Google. Yeah, nothing much. Even when he used a pseudonym he was discrete. There were not a lot of results to the query – but oh, he now realized why the name had seemed familiar! The guy was writing fan-fiction – oh yes, there they were, nice little stories on AO3. He remembered those stories. Ha! Star Trek fan-fiction. He had always thought that fan-fiction was mostly written by women, and anyway “AnJoan Grey” sounded feminine – he did not really imagine a good-looking, fascinating guy behind that strange name.

There were a few authors he constantly read on AO3 – in great secret and only from his hyper-secure Lenovo tablet, because, wasn’t it so? Reading fan-fiction reading made you look… dubious, people were judging you; fan-fiction was necessarily porn, wasn’t it so?

STUPID. He had read stories here that would have made Mark Twain or Ernest Hemingway die of envy.

He loved a few authors and he had subscribed to their publications: IvanW, Nikte and AnJoan Grey were among his favourites. In his opinion, AnJoan Grey wrote better than he composed music – but then again, he did not know much about music.

He had set in mind not to think of… HIM at all, and there he was, sitting and reading _Edelweiss_ all over again – it was the story which had destroyed his soul, the story which had put into words every single desire and craving he ever had – and those were not physical, bodily cravings, but rather cravings of the soul, unspeakable and powerful like demons…

His phone chirped – and he cursed. At all times, SOMETHING was removing him from his dreamworld – either the stupidity of the patients, or death itself, or those who would not leave him have a single moment of peace at home.

Jeffrey Brown, the display said. His resident. He decided to take the call – what if there was an emergency?

“What?” he immediately snapped at him – because that was what he was like, snappish and rude.

“Hey doc’. I see you are in a charming mood, as usual.”

“What do you want?”

“Just to let you know that your John Doe was transferred to another hospital.”

“What? Spock was transferred? Where? Why? Wait a minute, how? He finally told someone his name?” he asked with shock and surprise and heartache.

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“You know what? I don’t care!”

Leonard threw the phone away and pretended not to care for about two minutes and a half. He then rushed to retrieve the device and called his resident back.

“Listen, Doc’…”

“Start talking now.”

“I should not even bother, really… your behaviour is intolerable, and I really do not care you are my boss!!!”

“Kid. Drop it. Okay? What happened to him?”

“Well, he asked for a phone and called someone. A young dude came over and paid for everything. He looked bossy and important.”

“His boyfriend, most certainly, or life-partner…”

“Nah, I doubt that, because he did not give him a second look. He just took care of the paperwork and had him placed in a private ambulance and off they went.”

“You know where?”

“Nope. I did not have enough clearance for that. I signed the transfer papers because you weren’t here, ‘cause if you were, you could have had all those details.”

Leonard let his phone drop out of his hand, absent-mindedly.

He felt he had made a huge, irreparable mistake – he had left anger obstruct his judgement and thus – he had lost contact with Him. Where to find him now, without even knowing his name?

He felt numb.

<You okay, Doc’? You want me to come over?> his resident texted. That was one good man, Leonard thought.

<No, kid. Thanks. You are a good Doctor – and a good Friend. I’ll be fine.>

He put the phone away and picked the laptop. He was going to watch a movie and have a glass of whisky or two and forget about everything. He was going to watch “Star Trek Into Darkness”, one of his favourite movies. He loved the opening scene, with that red forest and Leonard McCoy running through the jungle with Jim Kirk. The actors were in such a great shape. He touched his own abs. He was rather flabby, he usually neglected going to the gym – lack of time, energy and enthusiasm – there was nothing in his life to motivate him to look good anyway.

It was fun that he had the same first name like the Doctor from the movie. And both of them were doctors. He loved watching the movies carefully, closely, and to pay attention to all the medical scenes, laughing at the inconsistencies and marvelling at the vivid imagination of the screenplay writers.

Ah, that scene with Spock almost sacrificing his life in order to detonate that device in the volcano! Always such a smart-ass. And Kirk always doing the impossible to save him. Spock and Kirk were a thing. Not Spock and Leonard.

Not the pretend Spock and Leonard, from New Orleans, from July 2018. Not those.

He felt like crying and he was unable fight the urge to do so. He took a pillow from the couch and hugged it tightly to his chest and he let his tears flow.

It was stupid, HE was stupid, he knew that. He had fallen in love – from the first moment, and no matter how much he had read about the chemical mechanisms which make people “fall in love”, no matter how much reluctance he showed towards the stupid, romantic idea of “love at first sight” – it had been exactly so. It had sufficed for his… Spock to open his eyes and look at him and… gone was his heart.

He remembered that the notebook on which Spock had scribbled his messages, when he was unable to talk, was in his backpack.

Stumbling, he went to verify if he still had it – yes. He still had it. He reread all the scribblings. They were written with a trembling hand and errors, but they were written by his hand and he had nothing else.

He looked at all the pages.

His heart nearly leaped when he found a little note on one of the pages – he must have written it when Leonard was not looking.

 _Mine_. It said.

Mine.

 _Yours_? Leonard asked the page, tracing the contour of the shaky letters with his fingers. If you call me Yours, why did you leave? Why didn’t you – why didn’t you trust me?

He spent the evening re-reading the entire _Edelweiss_ story; he had in mind to write a message under the last chapter – something like I miss you, or Sorry, or Whatever, because unfortunately the AO3 website did not have a private messaging system – and writing on YouTube would have seemed… dubious.

To his astonishment, when he reached the last chapter – this story always tore him apart and it was no different now – he found a comment, a very strange comment, which seemed to have been left… for him!

_I miss you too, Leonard._

What to do now, what to do? What to write? How not to… _ruin it_ all over again?

He took a deep breath.

He typed:

_I want to come to you. Can I come to you?_

He could not believe he was actually doing such a thing. But he was. What if Spock – or AnJoan Grey – or whatever his name was – will actually give him an address? Gosh. Would he go? Anyway – it was not as if he was going to type an actual address into the AO3 comment section, really now…

Leonard dreamt that he would, though. He would go to him – he would take some days off – it would be just like in a story. He wondered if the person projecting himself as Spock was bossy and demanding, like in the stories he wrote, or were the stories, perhaps, expressions of his own cravings? It was impossible to tell.

He refreshed the page compulsively. Sometimes it took hours for AO3 to notify his users that a new comment has been received, or an answer to their comment. Perhaps Spock had better things to do rather than to obsess over his messages.

 _Will you stop asking what my true name is?_ – the new comment said.

So this was the condition. He needed to stop asking stupid questions. Perhaps he was in the Federal Witness Protection Program. Perhaps keeping his identity a secret was mandatory and he was just stupidly, dumbly asking for the same question all over again. Or perhaps he was someone dangerous. But if that was the case, Leonard found… he did not care. Not anymore, at least. He knew about people; he prided himself he could read through anything and anyone in seconds, a bit like Sherlock Holmes. This was not a murderer or a burglar. He was someone dangerous, yes, that much was true; but he had not harmed other beings.

If there was one chance to… to whatever was about to happen, Leonard was going to take that chance.

_Yes. I promise. Where should I come to?_

Leonard was screwed. An address would follow, probably, and he will have to go – not because he was being coaxed to do so, outside his own will, but because he felt he could not endure being far from him any longer. Whatever happens… happens. Not very philosophical, but Leonard felt he was lacking any trace of brains and reason right now and he did not regret it in the least. Let the brains go to hell once in a while, because sometimes you just had to do what those silly Facebook posts announced so colourfully: Follow your heart, follow your dreams, blah blah. Etc. Whatever he was following right now, he had no fucking idea.

_My driver is coming for you. Ask no questions, he will stop the car if you do so, and you will have to get out of it._

Well, fuck. Yeah, he was fairly sure he will get this sort of answer. Anyway, it was too late to worry now and he had promised to stop making inquiries about his true name. He will just let the mystery… be, and sink in it and hope not to drown.

_Ok, got it. I am at home. Should I text him the address or email it to you? I am not at the hospital._

He decided to take a shower and stop refreshing the page compulsively. He felt he had passed beyond a no-return point. He shaved and dressed in jeans and a black shirt. He was such a boring-looking guy, with that Steve Jobs dress-code – he only possessed jeans and black shirts or t-shirts, he thought that wearing something which resembled a uniform each day – made life much easier.

_There is no need, I know where you are. He will be there at 6 PM. He drives a black Toyota Corolla._

Leonard took a deep breath. He texted Jeffrey announcing that he will be on sick leave for the next few days and will send in the necessary paperwork soon; he picked his keys and phone and a portable medical bag that went everywhere with him.

He had no idea what he was doing.

It was 5:59 PM. A black Toyota was parking in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go ahead and investigate the Comments under the last Chapter of Edelweiss, and live more into this story.


	3. Montgomery Scott

“What’s your name?” Leonard asked the young driver, who was not paying any attention to him, looking straight ahead and focusing exclusively on driving.

“Not relevant,” the answer came after a few moments.

Leonard could not help but roll his eyes.

“I have received my instructions and acknowledged them. I will not ask for HIS name and will not try to uncover his true identity. There were no instructions about you, though. Asking for one’s name… first name, for that matter, is basic human interaction.”

“Aye, well, I’m bad at basic human interactions.”

Passive-aggressive much? Leonard thought.

“You’re from Wales?” Leonard asked, noticing the strong, unusual accent.

“Wales?? Good God! Na’. I am from Scotland.”

“Ha! I should have been able to recognize it. A part of the puzzle… I bet your name is, in fact, Montgomery Scott.”

The driver slowed down, just enough to give Leonard quite a glare.

“You need to stop with this Star Trek nonsense. His mind is fragile as it is. He is now calling himself Spock, as if my life was not already fucking complicated.”

Leonard looked ahead, out the window. They were in a part of the city he had never even seen before.

“He is not mentally disturbed,” he said. He was convinced of that. “It is me who called him Spock and he went along with the joke. Thus, he avoided telling me his true name in a very convenient manner. How should I call him, if not Spock, so that I do not upset him, nor do I ruin my chance of meeting him again?”

“Well, if you want my opinion, the best way to call him would be _You, Idiot_!”

“Really, Scotty…”

“Don’t call me Scotty!!!”

“Perhaps you could then suggest how should I call you, so that I do not ruin the mystery? You people are experts at not saying your names. You could say George, or Mike, or whatever.”

“Scotty is cool,” he then said, just to make the infuriating human shut up.

Leonard realized they were parking in front of Hutchinson Hospital, of which he had read that it was one of the most expensive ones in the entire state. Of one thing he was sure: Spock had an awful lot of money. Whoever his parents – whom he hated, it seemed – were, they were rich people – it was either that, or Spock was in fact earning fabulously from… music? Writing? Mysterious… no, annoying and upsetting.

He decided not to ask any more questions because he had the feeling that the Scottish guy did not particularly like him. He just silently followed him inside the hospital which was so clean that he felt he was… spearing germs all over the immaculate corridors.

His heart was beating fast.

“Stay a bit here. I’ll check if he wants to see you now,” the Scottish man told him.

Leonard obeyed – what else could he do? And remained outside the room in which he hoped he would see Spock. The nameless Scottish guy was probably reporting of Leonard’s behaviour. He hoped he had not broken any rules or instructions.

He did not want to ruin this… whatever this was.

“He will see you now,” the Scottish man told him.

“Thanks, Scotty,” Leonard said, not without sarcasm and decided that if people did not tell him their names, he will invent them and that was all there was to be discussed about it. He ignored the ferocious glare. “Did you tell him I behaved myself?”

“You did not behave yourself.”

“You are very nice too, Scotty. Bye now.”

Leonard went inside the room.

He stopped in the doorway, taking a deep breath as he saw his… friend? – laying on a bed which was looking very science-fiction – and Leonard cursed internally for not going at enough seminars about the progress of medical tools and healthcare beds.

He looked very tired – and Leonard immediately switched to doctor-mode, dropping his bag onto the floor and coming near him at once, examining all the IV drops and the data displayed on the sophisticated monitors.

“You should have stayed with me, goddammit! The potassium flow is too high! What are they trying to do, kill you!? Who is in charge here?”

Spock, who was feeling visibly ill, pressed a button and several doctors and nurses came into the room.

Leonard did not even wait for them to be introduced; he immediately started explaining, on a bothered tone, that HIS patient had been treated poorly in their five-star clinic and that they should know better that a patient should not be given such a high dose of potassium post-surgery because that risks to fucking kill him! And no, he was not going to listen to anything!

“Dr. Leonard Cain is my private physician,” Spock finally said something, on a tired tone.  “You shall defer to his authority and make sure he receives everything he asks.”

“I need a capable nurse and the full history of what has been done to him so far. And now leave us,” Leonard ordered sharply.

Leonard could not have peace until everything was in control – he knew that, and Spock knew that. He ordered full blood tests, he adjusted the medication which was IV-dripped and made sure he was comfortable and clean.

“Sit down already, Leonard…” Spock said. “Take a deep breath. I am fine.”

“The hell you are. Why did you have to le-“

“Let’s just stop discussing this issue, Leonard.”

“Okay, fine!” he said on a grumpy tone, sitting down near him on a chair.

“You came to me,” Spock said, touching his hand with his fingers.

“Yeah, well… I… yeah. I did.”

“It was extremely brave.”

“Are you saying you are very dangerous?”

“I am not saying that… even though it might be true. I am saying you were brave, because a complete stranger called you and you answered to that call, despite of not knowing anything at all about the person asking you to come.”

Leonard caught his hand, holding it with care.

“You did not want me to come just to look after you. Even though you did well. Fancy hospital, incapable doctors. Old story.”

“No, Leonard. I wanted to come, because I felt… I could not be without you, and I felt it was reciprocal,” Spock said – and he felt his palm sweaty, it was not easy to say such things.

“It is reciprocal,” Leonard murmured, looking at his hand. Had it not been an IV needle right on the back of the hand… he would have lifted it up and kissed it. “My God, Spock. Are you even… you know… interested in men?”

“I do not know. I was never with a man before.”

“Neither was I. And well, women… after the first – and last one, I did not need any other. It was too much.”

“You are divorced, as far as I could research.”

Leonard frowned.

“How would you know?”

“I… looked up. I mean my assistant did. He… sorry. I had to know where to find you and well… the other information came up. You are not exactly secretive.”

“Something we could not say about you.”

“I am sorry, Leonard. Please… do not be so upset about this. I am not going to hurt you in any way… and somehow I feel you are beyond caring about that, since you are here…”

“I am beyond caring, yes. But I want to know a bit of practical things. You want me to move in with you?”

“Yes. I have an apartment. It is simple and comfortable: one bedroom, one living-room and another small room which I have soundproofed to be able to work on my music without disturbing the neighbours.”

“Where does the money come from?”

“From musical projects. I do orchestrations and other music tasks. It pays very well.”

“You don’t take any money from your dad, I suppose.”

“Never,” Spock said before thinking.

Leonard registered the precious piece of information. So, there was a father, a rich one for that matter. And Spock did not want to have anything to do with him.

“Okay. I will have to work, you know?”

“Right away?”

“No, I took some time off.”

“You did well. We have so much to…”

Spock did not manage to finish the sentence. Was it because of the emotions or because of feeling ill? It was uncertain; he closed his eyes as his blood pressure dropped and Leonard stopped talking, focusing on rebalancing his vitals.

 

“Don’t you lose consciousness on me,” Leonard tried to smile, several hours later, when Spock was once again able to talk. “Listen. You are not well. If you are rich as you say, and if you can get me all the medicine and equipment I require, I will look after you much better from… home. So, get Scotty here and let me draft a shopping list for him.”

“Who?”

“The driver, that Scottish dude. Secretive just like you, he wouldn’t even tell me his first name, so I had to make one up. Since he is Scottish – and we are in a full Star Trek fantasy, I believe it is quite an appropriate name. Needless to say, your mystery Father has now acquired the name of Sarek in my mind.”

“I believe both names fit the persons you assigned them to, so I will message Scotty and he will be at your disposal with everything you want him to buy. I am also looking forward to home. With you.”

Leonard smiled. Home with him – with a man whose name he did not even know.

It didn’t matter.

“How come you are writing Star Trek stories?”

“Just like you, I love everything Star Trek. It is my refuge, a world I can dream in…”

“I have read all your stories, you know?”

“I am humbled to find it out now. It seems… It seems we are living in a story as we speak.”

“It certainly seems so. As long as we are co-authors and you promise not to publish it on AO3… it seems you value your privacy and well… most of my colleagues are very homophobic. Gosh, I am not even gay.”

“Leonard, cease those thoughts. This is not about being _straight_ or _gay_. What is now happening to us is much more than a sexual preference. It is –“

“It is an emergency of the heart,” Leonard said. “Yes. I know. Let us then live this story, Spock.”

 

He dreaded the fact that he had to give a report of some sort, without betraying his friend and without… blatantly lying to the man he so adored.

“His Excellency will see you now,” he was told by the secretary.

He went into the office and bowed – out of habitude, as if he were in front of a bishop.

“Have you found my son?”

“Yeah,” he said looking downwards.

“Sit down.”

“Yes, Your Excellency,” he murmured sitting down on the chair on the opposite side of the desk. He did not dare look at Him.

“You will tell me his address right now.”

“You know I will do no such thing, no matter what you do to me.”

“I have means to force you, but torture is not something I take great pleasure in, no matter what rumours say.”

“You know very well, Your Excellency, that torture is ineffective with me. Whatever comes from your hands…”

“You adore and worship me, and you will not tell me where my son is. How is this logical and understandable?”

“Your son is well and in good hands.”

“What do you mean by that? Is he hurt?”

“He is well, and you will not get any other information from me, as it is not necessary. Let him live his life. He has been through too much. I will not betray the trust of the man who saved my life countless times on the front lines, no matter how I adore and worship you. I will not let you explore the weakness I have for you.”

“It is just beyond my comprehension,” he said covering his face with his hands. “I finance a war and my own son decides to go fight in it – for the enemy! He gets hurt – no, you both get hurt, he carries you miles and miles through the desert and then through the swamp, he breaks all connections to me and refuses to – “

“What the hell is so difficult to understand? You fucking financed a war! How is that right in any way?”

“The political implications are beyond your fragile ability to understand…”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. I am loyal to the man who saved my life and no matter what you will say or do or explain about the _political implications_ – who will never, ever, justify wars, by the way – will not make me tell you one single digit of his address.”

“You are being obtuse and unreasonable. Why do you keep coming to me, if you do not wish to tell me anything?”

“Like you didn’t know. I am coming because I know that, despite everything, you love your son and you deserve to know he is well. As for my feelings for you, well… they are common knowledge.”

“You should have fallen in love with my son.”

“I should have; you are right here. We are more or less the same age, we have the same inclinations, the same hobbies, he is good, kind, compassionate and talented and not at all a sadistic bastard like his 61-year-old dad. But then again… can we ever decide who do we fall in love with?”

“I dislike you profoundly.”

“I know. I know.”

“Go to my bedroom and wait for me there.”

“No, don’t ask this of me. You will not –“

“I will do what I want. If you did not want me to ask this of you, you shouldn’t have come here. You could have just texted all the nonsense you told me this evening.”

“Fine. I’ll go. Come soon.”

It was always like that, and it hurt to be used, but he had so little – so little of him. And he will not give it up, no matter how degrading it was. Love makes you lose not only your mind, but also every sense of dignity. And he did not care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter might be delayed by a week as I am going on a trip, with little to no internet connection.


	4. Blind Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAUTION!
> 
> Mentions of abuse and sexual assault. Aftermath. No actual descriptions.

“Your apartment is beautiful,” Leonard observed as they were trying to settle in. Spock had been discharged from the hospital and Leonard was of a mind to carefully supervise his recovery. He had called the HR department at his own hospital, where he worked, and had undergone through the necessary arrangements and paperwork to take full ten days off. Vacation. New life?

“OUR apartment,” Spock corrected.

“Are you sure you actually want me to be a part of your life? I mean… you barely know me. Yeah, okay, you know more about myself than I know about yourself but then again… are you sure you trust me? Are you sure you wanna… dunno… be with me?”

“Leonard, you are talking excessively. We are here.”

“Yeah okay, but I need answers.”

“Go make us a coffee, I need to rest for a few minutes,” he said sitting down on the sofa in the living-room. The short trip from the taxi to the door, passing by the two floors they had to climb on foot because there was no elevator, plus the ample amount of medicine and tools Leonard had brought in, had drained him – a sign that he was a bit far from being fully re-established.

“You sound bossy,” Leonard commented – not that he minded. Spock was sort-of… in charge, from the two of them, despite his more fragile constitution.

He went to the kitchen to make coffee. It was sparkling clean and Leonard breathed deeply – there was nothing he enjoyed more than an impeccably looking kitchen. The furniture was not futuristic, but rather plain and boring; there was no dishwasher – gosh, even at this level they matched – Leonard HATED the dishwashers! When you have three plates, two forks and two mugs, what the hell would you do with a dishwasher? Minimalism!

A perfectly ordered fridge, with foods organized on categories – oh, wonderful, wonderful! He felt like clapping. A blender and a juicer. An electric oven. A microwave oven. Very few utensils. He loved this man.

He –

He loved him.

Already? He asked himself.

Yes. From the first damn moment. It was what he felt, and he had gone with the flow ever since.

He boiled water in a kettle and added two spoons of Davidoff coffee when the water boiled. Ah, the smell.

He felt happy – he felt scared.

He placed the coffee mugs on a larger plate because there he could not find a tray and took them to the living-room.

“No sugar in your coffee for a while, Mr. Spock,” he said trying to sound light-hearted.

“I always take my coffee black anyway,” Spock said with a small smile.

Leonard felt he could walk up to the margins of the world for that smile.

“What is it? Sit down…”

Leonard sat near him, he took his hand slowly, intertwining their fingers. He looked downwards.

He felt a finger lifting his chin and turning his head to one side and their eyes met.

Spock leaned towards him and kissed him.

Leonard closed his eyes as everything around him was spinning – Spock was kissing him!!! He had never been kissed by a man before and it felt unusual, but it felt right – and his entire being filled with what felt like butterflies, with emotions so intense he could barely conceal – and his heart filled with more, more love.

He kissed back, slowly, with shyness.

“Are you not afraid to be kissed by a man whose name you do not even know?”

Leonard smiled – it was a logical question, a question he himself had asked numerous times – out loud and within his own mind.

“Your name is Spock.”

Spock smiled. Leonard could read happiness in his dark-brown eyes.

“Are you sure you do not care whether I am a wanted criminal or not?”

“You are not. If you had been, you would have chosen some other name – Shinzon maybe, or Soran or Khan.”

“Khan was cool!” Spock said excitedly. “I don’t know why, but I never perceived him as a full villain. There was something about him… I cannot say…”

“I believe you like Benedict Cumberbatch,” Leonard teased, playfully pinching his shoulder.

“I appreciate him,” he confessed. “He is magnificent. But what I like and love and want… is you,” he added looking deeply into his eyes.

Leonard was at a loss of words for a few moments.

“Love?” he murmured.

“Yes.”

“You love me, Spock?”

“I love you, Leonard.”

He blinked a couple of times, swallowing hard, chocked with emotion.

He wanted to say something intelligent, but he felt his own brain had jellified. If only all this took place in a story written by someone with more imagination, having really smart, romantic replies to everything. But this was the real life, no matter how much they pretended to be Star Trek characters, and Leonard could not think of something really smart or romantic to reply.

“Why?” he asked, instead.

Spock smiled.

“Because you deserve. Because you are beautiful, smart, lucid, incredibly knowledgeable, observant, sweet and kind. Because you love order, minimalism, discipline, self-control, mastery of knowledge accumulated, doing things well and right, justice and the coherence of life. Because you accepted to follow a man who transformed your own life into an incoherent mess and welcomed him into your heart nonetheless. Because love does not need reasons.”

“I love you so much…” Leonard managed to murmur, wrapping his arms around him and wanting to hold him tight and never let him go… luckily, he had that lucidity which Spock had just praised, and he was mindful of his formerly punctured lung. He held him delicately, feeling that everything inside him was… melting.

“Leonard. My Leonard…” Spock murmured. “Remain with me. Be mine.”

“I will. I am. Yours.”

“No matter what the future brings us?”

“Hell, it is a bit too late for that. At some point, you WILL tell me your name and you’ll see that I won’t freak out at all.”

Spock smiled.

“So… you have never been with a man before, no?”

“I haven’t,” Leonard said blushing. “But I mean… the mechanics of it… are familiar to me.”

“Is that so?” Spock lifted one eye-brow, smirking. “Watching naughty movies, perhaps?”

“Every normal person in this world watches naughty movies sometimes. What, do you think that’s sinful, or what?”

“Nooo. I am just teasing you. How could it be sinful to have a healthy sex-drive?”

“Exactly. But knowing the… mechanics of this is due to the fact that I am a doctor. I have often treated –“

The discussion was interrupted by a ring at the door.

Spock frowned.

“It’s me,” a voice was heard from the other side.

“Oh, I’d recognize that awful accent anywhere,” Leonard said standing up. “It’s Scotty.”

“You really ARE going to call him Scotty, aren’t you?” Spock said laughing.

“Of course I am. When I do not have names, I invent some. Calling people using pronouns or eventual insulting epithets is not really my style.”

“Truly so. Well then, Scotty it is. Go and open the door to him,” he then added on a slightly more demanding tone.

Leonard did so, and the next moment, Scotty fell into his arms, barely conscious.

“Good God, Man, what the hell??” He dragged the young man in and lay him on the floor in the hallway. “Spock!! Can you bring me my medical bag?”

Spock was near them within seconds, carrying the bag. His eyes widened – equal shock and surprise.

“Simon! Simon…!” he murmured, dropping to his knees near his friend.

So this one’s name is _Simon_ , Leonard registered the information, but decided not to make use of it, since it had ben divulged in a moment of severe stress – and anyway they had much more important things to worry about right now.

“Who did this, Simon?” Spock asked, cupping his face.

“Wait, give him a break right now,” Leonard said on a slightly stricter tone. He needed to see what had happened. He Carefully checked his vitals and when he unbuttoned his shirt, they both noticed that the young man’s chest was full of scratches and wounds… it looked as if he had been attacked by…

“He was assaulted,” Leonard said, lifting the Scottish man in his arms – luckily, he was thin and fragile, and Leonard had strong arms. “I will take him to the bedroom to look after him. You do not need to see this, and I believe he’d also value his privacy,” he told Spock.

Spock nodded. He understood.

He needed to have his hunch confirmed… He was almost certain of the identity of the attacker. The predator. The curse of his life. DAMN him!!!

Leonard deposed his fragile patient on the bed.

He started an IV, and then he wiped his forehead slowly with a wet towel.

“Sweetie? It’s me, Leonard. You are safe now. Can you open your eyes, baby?”

The young man’s eyes fluttered open. There was deep sorrow reflecting in them.

Leonard was relieved to see sorrow – it would have been so much more complicated, should there be just a blank stare.

“I have started an IV, just fluids, something to hydrate you. You have been… assaulted.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured.

“Should we call the Police?”

“No… no. Please do not.”

“It is all right,” Leonard tried to reassure him. “May I remove your shirt to treat you?”

“Sure… and the rest of clothes, don’t worry. I have been through this before. “

Leonard cringed internally, slowly removing the already-torn garments. The damage was… fixable, with love, care and patience.

“Why are you letting him do this to you?” Leonard asked him – okay, not the most diplomatic question to ask an assault victim. Gosh. He wanted to punch himself.

“I love him,” came he answer, and Leonard was not even surprised.

“Sweetie, will you turn over, on your belly? I will need to clean…”

“Yeah okay. Don’t treat me as if I were a fragile decoration. I told you I was fine.”

“You are the farthest thing from fine, you damn idiot,” Leonard said with a bit of anger.

None of them spoke after that. Leonard did what had to be done, with infinite gentleness and care, despite the harsh words he had said to the young man. He was obviously in an abusive relationship with someone who mocked at him in every possible way, endangering not only his health, his physical integrity, but also his sanity, his mental integrity… Leonard had never been in an abusive relationship, but he had treated so many victims… it was heartbreaking to witness such things.

He covered him with a blanket. He started a second IV.

“Can Spock come see you?

“Yeah, no problem…”

Leonard stood up, heading towards the door.

“Um Doc’?”

“Yeah?”

“You are a good person and you are right. I am an idiot. But I cannot be otherwise.”

“You love him too much…”

“Yes. And I know you can understand what _loving too much_ means – after all you are here too, in the most extraordinary circumstances. And you don’t even know his name…”

“That’s already a classical line, me not knowing his name, blah, it stopped being important. Besides, I got to find out your first name is Simon.”

The young man’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Did you figure out his name as well?”

“Nope, and not asking.” Leonard opened the door. “Spock? You can come in.”

Spock, who seemed to have stayed near the door all the while, came in immediately. He looked straight into the patient’s eyes. They studied each other for a few moments and no one spoke.

“It was him, am I right? Spock inquired softy, coming a bit closer.

“It is always him. No other hands have touched or will ever touch me.”

“Why are you doing this? Why?”

“Why have you brought Leonard home?”

“I love Leonard,” Spock replied without a single moment of hesitation.

“And I love your Father.”

Leonard froze, hearing those words. The predator having made this was Spock’s father. Life was throwing some very bad jokes at them.

“There is nothing to love about him!!” Spock exclaimed, with outrage, his voice filled with compassion and anger – his friend really did not deserve any of this – and no one did, if you came to think.

“I know. Don’t you think I know?”

“Then why are you going to him?”

“Because he calls me. And if he does so, I cannot resist.”

“Give me your phone. Where is it? I will throw it away and stop you from seeing him.”

“Please stop. Not seeing him would mean my death.”

“He nearly kills you every damn time!!!”

Leonard stepped between them. He did not want this discussion to escalate and, also, he didn’t want Spock to inadvertently confess something else by mistake and regret it afterwards.

“Spock. Give him a break. I will stay with him until he falls asleep, and then come to you, okay? Feelings cannot be switched on and off. If he is your friend, help him, accept him, soothe him. Do not judge him.”

Spock was momentarily rendered speechless. He knew very well he was not doing Simon any good by scolding.

“You will both stop,” Leonard told them. “Our friend needs to heal, physically and psychologically. If he wants to talk about what happened to him and about his abuser, we will be here to listen and we will not lance any accusations. We are sufficiently weird, the three of us. There is no need to harm each other uselessly. I accepted to live with a man whose identity I do not know; that makes me weird enough as well.”

The two other men looked at him silently. Leonard was making all the good points.

“Since we are living in a story, it seems, Simon or whatever his name is will live in the same story with us. We will protect and love him unconditionally. And since I have found out his first name by mistake, I shall continue to call him Scotty. For me, he is the smart tech guy and genius physics scientist. And I’d be damned if I don’t download him the last Carlo Rovelli book so that he may think of other stuff.”

“Actually…” the young man murmured. “I’d love that. May I live in your story for a while? I am tired.”

Spock came closer to both of them.

“You may live with us in the apartment and follow the rules I establish. I have always cared for your wellbeing, Simon, I am not going to fail on my mission now. So yes. Starting today, you are a part of this crazy thing Leonard and myself are building. I am going to call you Scotty as well, so that your ears may hear another name and not the one which has been whispered or yelled by unworthy lips. It seems I hold the… highest rank, so… you’ll both be good.”

“Aye, Sir,” Scotty – on his new first name – murmured. “Agreed. And do download me a Physics book – an audiobook as my arms are too jabbed by perfusions to be able to hold something – I believe _The Order of Time_ is read by Benedict Cumberbatch, so be merciful.”

Spock rolled his eyes and went to get the transaction done swiftly and discreetly.

 

Leonard covered Scotty with tenderness and gave him water to sip.

“I have always hated Sarek of Vulcan, really.”

“Who?” Scotty murmured.

“Spock’s Father from Star Trek. Since he is called Spock and I am clueless to the identity of his outrageous dad, I might as well assign him a nickname as well. So he will be Sarek. And I will perform live vivisection on him when we meet.”

“Please, do not…I love Sarek. My beautiful prince, my beloved.”

Leonard shook his head.

“Try to sleep. Things will look better tomorrow.”

 


	5. Sarek of Vulcan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Angst.

Leonard made sure his patient, Scotty, was asleep before leaving the room. He knew that the victims of abuse did not have to be left unattended, no matter how brave they appeared and no matter how many times they said they did not need anyone. It was just a stage of the grief and someone had to be there. It was something that Leonard excelled in. He would not abandon anyone, because he knew how it felt... to be abandoned. 

He went back to Spock, hoping for a quiet moment, but he found him troubled and distraught - as it was to be expected, given the circumstances. He tried not to bug him with questions - it seems that the most important questions were left unanswered anyway. 

"I am not going to leave, you know? No matter what demons may emerge," Leonard said softly, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"There are demons lurking everywhere in my life," Spock replied, placing his hands over Leonard's. "I wonder... what rights do I have to do such things to do - to you of all people, who hae showed nothing but kindness to me and Si... and Scotty."

"Demons are fought with; they are exorcised. Let them come; as long as we remain together."

"Those are dangerous demons."

"The most dangerous of all demons is fear, Spock. And you do not strike me as an individual who fears anything. You seem to have witnessed vast horrors; caused by strangers and caused by loved ones. I am guessing you are protective of Scotty as if he were your own brother, and you sometimes blame yourself for not seeing something... else in him, to be able to protect him at different levels; you only see him as a friend. Am I right?"

"You are very much right, Sherlock," Spock smiled, embracing him. "I wish I could give you the life you want... the life you deserve. But the truth is, there is ever so little stability in mine and, at some point, you will be horrified, and you will leave."

"No."

"How can you be sure?"

"I know how your thinking works."

"You have known me for only a couple of days..."

"I don't need much time to love someone; and besides, you forget that I have read your stories and I know your thoughts, your heart. I know that you are kind and loving, intelligent and knowledgeable on a vast area of topics - some of which are really dubious; I know you can shock people to the core, but I also know you are very afraid of losing those you love and you obsess over the fact until your mind loses coherence. Am I wrong in my analysis?"

"You are not... you are amazing."

"I wish we lived in one of your particular stories."

"In which one?"

"In _Edelweiss_."

Spock's eyes became darker – shadows of painful memories momentarily visiting his consciousness.

"That is a very special story. A story of love and submission."

"This is the main topic of all the stories - and in all of them, Spock loves Leonard and owns him."

"And how does Leonard feel about that?"

"The character in your stories, or the man in your arms?"

"Right now, they are one and the same."

"Leonard thinks this is the right order of things."

Spock smiled. He SO loved this man, there were no words to describe how he felt from the first moment he had seen him. It was beyond logic, beyond comprehension and right now, as Leonard said, he did not want to analyse anymore. He just wanted to feel. He kissed him possessively. 

"We should go to our room," he murmured, because he felt the need to have Leonard only for himself. Scotty would be fine for the night, he knew it. 

 

"That would be beautiful," Leonard said, still a bit dazed after the kiss, but I forbid you to try any of those things you are currently thinking of. You are not well yet and I bet you wanna be in the best of shape."

"Is this the doctor in you talking, or rather the apprehensive lover who fears the first night of love?"

"The lover is not apprehensive, and he fears nothing, as he may have already proven to you, so do not be silly. You have had a punctured lung and I'd be damned if I am performing any surgeries on you in the next 30 years."

"You have long-term plans," Spock smiled.

"I... yeah, sorry, you're right. You may very well get bored of me."

"That is highly unlikely, Leonard... my beautiful Leonard..." he murmured, kissing him again.

Leonard felt quite shy as they retired to their room, but Spock seemed to have taken the lead and he carefully lay Leonard on the pillows. Coming near him in bed, he wrapped one arm around his waist and pulled him close against him, fighting his own urges to do more; he wanted to listen to his doctor, but he also wanted to be able to give him, later on, a very beautiful first night of love. That would mean he had to be in full control of his strength; for Leonard, that would be the first time with a man; he knew he had to be gentle and in control of everything, in order not to hurt, scare or otherwise harm his beloved; he would never forgive himself, otherwise.

But right now, nothing could stop him from kissing Leonard, endlessly kissing him, as if he drew his very life-essence from him; he felt… he felt they were somehow – merging at a very deep level, this was not mere kissing…

“I do not believe in love at first sight…” Spock murmured to him. “When I saw you, I felt I had known you for one million years already. I did not meet you for the first time; I… recognized you. It is silly, I know.”

“It is not silly. I felt the same. Perhaps such things as star-crossed lovers actually exist.”

“Or perhaps we are too obsessed by wanting to live an actual story… that we… deceive ourselves?” Spock said, leaned on one shoulder and looking at him, a bit apprehensive doubting his own judgement.

“Do you feel you mimic your love for me?”

“No, Leonard. I would love you even… even if you… I don’t know. Even if you did not love me back. Even if all you allowed me to do would be to kiss you. Despite everything.”

“So am I… so perhaps let us cast the doubts aside and kiss some more.”

 

Nothing else happened during that night, as Leonard was keen on not allowing Spock to give in to the very natural urges and impulses he had, and which he reciprocated. He wanted Spock to be completely re-established, because he valued his health and well-being way above momentary passion...

Leonard loved him. Each passing moment added something new to his love for this mysterious man and he... well... he no longer cared if Spock was a fugitive, a thief, a wanted criminal or the son of a king running away from the throne to be with his forbidden lover. Nothing really mattered anymore, and Leonard was... at peace.

He had the habit of waking up early as all doctors; he gingerly removed himself from Spock's arms and went to check on Scotty. The young man was also up - he had managed a shower by himself and now he was staring blankly out the window.

"What are you doing on your feet, you, crazy kid? Get in bed."

"Hey Doc'. I'm feeling better, was just stretching a bit," but without further commenting - because he had gotten to observe Leonard a little and he knew very well that once he wanted his patient to do something, there was little the patient could do to oppose... Doctors!!

Leonard listened to his heart and lungs carefully, after which he thoroughly replaced all the bandages, and brought him a new shirt."

"You have a nasty bruise on your neck," Scotty giggled, feeling in a somewhat better mood.

"Yeah..." Leonard blushed.

"Was it an interesting night?"

"It was a night I had been waiting for a long while - just to be in his arms. It means everything to me."

"Just that? You are modest."

"He is unwell, you, dickhead."

"Thanks, Doc', you are lovely too. Hey, help me up.

"What do you want to do now? You should stay in bed."

"Yes, but I wanna see if the black car is still there."

Leonard went to the window and looked outside.

"There is a silver Audi parked three feet behind a scooter."

"Yeah, the scooter is mine."

"What happened to your fancy car, the black... what was it... Toyota Avensis?"

"Toyota Corolla, you, ignorant man. You know nothing about cars and women! I doubt you know anything about football."

"Actually, I like chess and snooker..."

"Ignorance, as I said. So, the silver Audi still there, huh?"

"Yes, and the driver's inside, he seems to be texting."

"And keeping us under surveillance, I am an idiot. I should have been more careful, but I thought if I changed three vehicles and one scooter, they won't be able to trace us. Go wake Spock up, we need to inform him of this."

Leonard went back to his and Spock's room. He sat down on the side of the bed, near him, looking at him resting. So beautiful he was, so beautiful. 

"Spock..."

His eyes short open immediately - and upon seeing the beloved face, he smiled and his eyes became warmer.

Oh, that smile for which Leonard would have died.

"Would have wanted to let you sleep a bit longer... but Scotty said there is a car outside which looks suspicious and he believes someone might have followed us."

Spock jumped out of the bed – a little too fast, and he had to lean against a wall because everything was momentarily spinning; Leonard wrapped one hand around his waist, slowly guiding him outside the room and to Scotty.

"Talk," Spock ordered. "Have we been found?"

"Unless the driver in the silver Audi has been sitting there for the past two hours playing Candy Crush Saga, yes, we have been discovered. Sorry. I took all the usual precautions. I shouldn't have come."

"Nonsense. You wouldn't have gone to the hospital and you would have died. Leonard, pack our things. It seems we must go. We are in danger here."

"Wait a whole damn minute," Leonard said with a shadow of anger in his voice. What do you mean, we are in danger? Why?"

Spock took his hands.

"You accepted everything... you accepted to come and be with me despite knowing ever so little about me; I am asking you to trust me and believe that when I say we are in danger, it is exactly that."

"What is the worst thing that can happen?" Leonard insisted.

Scotty huffed... he knew very well that there was no limit to the depth of bad things which could happen.

"The worst I can think of right now? That we are separated forever."

Leonard took a deep breath.

"Stay here, you two. I will go pack. Spock, get on the bed near Scotty, you are all sweaty. You need your blood pressure back to normal. Do not do anything silly, and for once listen to your doctor.”

Spock, who was still dizzy from having jumped out of bed, did as told… where the hell to run when they were so fragile?

Leonard also knew very well that this wasn't a life... a life in which you always ran away from answers, in which you never answered questions - and even more so, in which no one seemed to be able to answer the questions you asked, in which you always lived in fear. Instead of packing, Leonard did something else. He went downstairs and walked towards the suspicious car. He would see what the hell was going on and try to fix it. 

Those two people in the apartment - his lover and his friend – needed a bit of peace. Peace was medicine for the mind and Leonard would grant it to them, no matter what the consequences were. As Spock had said, what was the worst thing that could happen? To be separated forever. But if that meant a solution would be found for them, Leonard was ready to find it and live with the consequences.

He knocked into the car's window and the person inside lowered it, to see who had come to visit him.

It was the first time the two men looked in each other's eyes. The first time they saw each other. 

"You must be the Doctor."

Leonard looked at the interlocutor with curiosity. He was in his sixties, with silvery-grey hair, beautiful beyond words and with strong, powerful eyes that seemed able to pierce any soul.

"And you are... _who_ exactly?"

"I believe you have already assigned me the name of <Sarek of Vulcan>."

Shit, Leonard cursed internally. This may have been a very bad idea. But there was no turning back now.

"Open the damn door then, Sarek of Vulcan, I dislike speaking through a window."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Do I look like I am afraid?"

"Yes, you do."

"Bullshit."

The older man opened the door of the car and Leonard sat down on the passenger seat.

"What are you doing here?"

"Since you came to me, Doctor, I believe it would be logical for me to ask this question first."

"Yeah? Okay. Where is it?"

"Where is what, dear Doctor?"

"The surveillance mechanism you placed on Scotty."

"Oh, Doctor, you are sharp and intuitive. I shall let you discover that, even though it is quite... visible."

Leonard closed his eyes, mentally analysing every single item Scotty wore. Of course - he had a bracelet he never took off - whatever surveillance mechanism had been planted on him, it had to be there.

"So, there IS a surveillance mechanism," Leonard asked, feeling stupid.

"I have just praised your intelligence. Don't make me call you an idiot. I know all that you discuss in that house, your exact location, everything. Even my nickname," he said with a smile which made Leonard's soul freeze.

"Okay. Let's get to more important questions," Leonard said, bracing himself for the confrontation which he was sure it would follow. "You want Spock. Why?"

"My son's place is with me and not anywhere else, so that he can no longer mock at my work and expose secrets which should not be exposed."

"What if I assure you he won't expose anything?"

"My dear boy..."

"I am not your dear boy. Spock hasn't even told me his name. He just wants to live his life, be happy, compose music and write stories."

"Well, now you know his name."

"Huh? Have you telepathically broadcasted it to me?"

"I wish I had powers worthy of the nickname you assigned to me, but sadly I do not. I presume you recognized me."

"Nope. Who are you?"

"Are you a complete idiot?"

"Yes. Therefore, listen. Your son will not come to you."

"Not willingly, he will not."

"You will not force him."

"How will you stop me?"

"I cannot really stop you, can I? But since you are a Father and he is your Son, I presume - no, I **know** there are instincts far stronger than your desire to look and be a complete jerk. You must care for him because this is what a parent DOES – he loves his child. I will not believe you are that different. I will not believe you are a bastard, no matter what Spock suggested about you and no matter what you try to convince me of. And since I am sure that deep down you do love your child, I am asking you to stop this shit and let him be. Keep him under surveillance if you have to; I can promise you that he will stay away from you and won't even mention your name. Just leave him be. Be a better person yourself! You can."

The older man was momentarily rendered speechless. He seemed to meditate upon Leonard's words, to ponder over them... to consider them. It was as if he was trying to resist a powerful temptation - that of actually trying to change, of WANTING to be someone different. But it lasted for only a brief moment. His eyes became cold and sharp again.

"Your words do justice to your reputation, Doctor. But you are wrong. I AM what you call a bastard and much worse. I am the EVIL you want to stay away from, because it will tear you to pieces and feed you to dogs. I will not kidnap my son, rest assured. And I will not separate him from you. For the entire disobedience he has shown me until now, I will do far worse things to him - also to you, as a collateral victim - do not frown, it is useless, it cannot be helped. They call me a cold, horrible man; I am exactly that. My son will come to me willingly, after having left you, first. You will both live SUCH pain. I am looking forward to it."

"There is no way you will accomplish that."

"No? Watch me."

The older man took his phone and dialled a number.

"Hello, Simon. Come to me, please. I am outside the apartment."

 

It was with pure horror that Leonard saw Scotty come outside, on shaky legs and sicker than ever.


	6. The Right Thing Which Hurts

It was a tragedy, pure and simple, Leonard knew it. There was nothing he could do to prevent Scotty from getting inside the doomed car, which next drove off, not even hurrying anymore. 

Leonard remained in the middle of the street, staring blankly after them. He had tried stopping Scotty. Of course he had yelled, begged, cried and did everything else he was capable of. Scotty had not even listened to a single word, he had just responded to a call which was stronger than his own will.

Spock had come outside as well, looking at the car who was slowly moving away from them.

"I am sorry..." Leonard murmured.

"He would have called him anyway, because this is his blackmail tool, this is what he does to torture me; he uses him, knowing that my strong-will is not going to endure forever. And each time, Simon comes back more shattered, more brainwashed, with more bruises..."

"Let's go to the police," Leonard said, his face red with anger.

"To the police? For what? Do you actually think that the police will go arrest HIM?"

"Why the hell not?"

"What will you accuse him of?"

"Of mistreatment of another human being, of blackmail, rape and many other things he is guilty of."

"Simon got into the car out of his own will. You saw it."

Leonard sighed. He sat down on a small fence, feeling all his powers were leaving him.

"You shouldn't have done this, Leonard. You should have done as I said, you should have packed, and we would have left."

"What kind of life is this, huh? Always running? Why don't you confront him? Why don't you end with him?"

"I cannot end with him as you say, because he is going to harm Simon even more. And Simon cannot resist his call. I am so angry with you! Why did you - ?"

"Stop it. You are not angry with me. You are angry with yourself. I agreed to come to you in most extraordinary circumstances because I have fallen in love with you like a fool that I am, but I am not going to stand aside and watch you ruin your life and his, and eventually mine. Do the right thing!"

"What is the right thing, Leonard?"

"Go - to - the - police!"

"I cannot."

"Give me one good reason!"

"He said that if I ever should do such a thing, he will blow Simon up."

Astonished and shocked beyond reason, Leonard rubbed his eyes. He then took Spock's hand and returned to the apartment. He left Spock in the living room to calm himself; he went and washed his face, he had to think things through and understand what was going on here.

He will blow Simon up.

How the hell do you blow a human being up?

And then he realized that Simon had that bracelet around his wrist, which most certainly hid the tracking device and probably something which could explode. A very effective torture tool, which transformed the person into a slave... too bad that Simon's own heart had done that before the bracelet - because Simon loved that monster, and for the love of all gods, Leonard could not understand why.

Leonard knew that Spock had given up trying to find solutions to this problem.

But that did not mean he had to give up too, not just yet, not while he still had brains and a heart. He knew Spock will never be free, he will never function, he will never wholeheartedly dedicate himself to their relationship while this was... going on. Something had to be done. Had he been a real character in Star Trek, what would he have done to solve this? Getting Simon back and cutting that bracelet fast was something to try; but then again, Simon would have just gone back to him.

He came back to the living-room, to find Spock sitting on the sofa and blankly staring at the wall in front

"We are going to fix this."

"There is no solution," Spock said gravely. "Except that of going to him. Which is what I am going to do. I cannot allow him to torture Simon any longer."

"You'd rather he tortured you?"

"Yes."

"Well, I am not going to let you do that."

"You will have no choice, Leonard. I want you to go home."

No, this was not happening. Or was it? Exactly how Sarek, that horrible monster, had said it would?

"You do not want me to go home, you wanna transform yourself into a victim instead of staying with me and finding a solution. I am not leav-"

"Leonard, I was wrong. Forgive me. I do not want to be with you any longer. You are... different than I thought. You are not the person I want in my life. You are too..."

"...different from the Leonard you fantasize about, who is good and submissive and mild and has no initiative?"

"Yes," Spock replied, not looking at him.

"It is because I am not a character, but a real person, who cares about you and does not want to let you make those stupid mistakes. You are so deeply immersed in this personal hell your father created, that you no longer see that there is a shore. There are right things which you can do. You just don't see them anymore. You want me to leave? Is this your honest desire?"

Spock would have wanted to say NO - he did not want Leonard to go, he wanted him to stay, to stay forever!!! But he realized that at this point, it was impossible to keep Leonard with him anymore. Leonard would eventually make a mistake that will cost them Simon's life and who knows what else. 

"Please leave, Leonard," Spock said brokenly. After which, he went to the bedroom and closed himself there. He knew very well that when he would come out of that doomed room, there will be no more happiness left and no more Leonard. No more... anything.

He will have nothing at all.

 

Leonard picked his things - which were not many; he left a sheet of paper with medical instructions for Spock's recovery and finally he left. If he was being told to leave, he would - no matter in how many pieces his heart would break. 

He took a cab to the nearest subway station and took the subway back to his old apartment. He preferred using cabs as little as possible as he was car-sick most of the times. He opened the door, threw his backpack on the floor and collapsed on the couch. He just hated everything!!!

No, it was not like that. He did not hate everything. He hated this particular moment of his life, which he had gotten to live because he just couldn't face and tolerate injustice and violence against those whom he loved.

He loved Spock. He loved Scotty - he refused to call him Simon, that was the name his jailer used, and he did not want to have anything in common with the terrible, horrible, gruesome and despicable Sarek of Vulcan. 

If only the man behind the nickname had some of the Star Trek character's features!! The nobility, the fairness, the ability to do good. All in all, he was his exact opposite, an anti-Sarek bringing about only torture, manipulation and destruction. 

Leonard dug up a pack of cigarettes and he lit up one. This was not a good moment to quit smoking. Oh well - he wasn't even smoking. Time to start.

He kept thinking, thinking, thinking, as tears continued to roll down his cheeks.

He got up and went to his neighbour, who owed him big time for all those occasions in which Leonard had patched him up after dubious pub encounters.

"Jason!!!" Open the door, man! It's me."

"Yo, what's up, Doc?" a sleepy man interrogated, and Leonard thought he sounded like Bugs Bunny and looked like a ghostly figure from Poltergeist. 

"I need to borrow your scooter."

"But you don't know how to drive a scooter..." Jason tried to protest.

"That is none of your concern. I'll bring it back in one piece."

"Ok, cool," Jason agreed, because Leonard was that person whom he trusted with his life, that person whom he OWED his life and that person who deserved to receive anything he wanted - three persons in one! Leonard was cool.

"Here," he said placing the keys in Leonard's hand. "You okay, Doc'? Want me to come with you?

"Were you just a bit more awake... I wouldn't have declined the offer."

"Sorry, it's been a rough night," Jason laughed at himself. "Be careful, Doc', you are cool and for that reason, mankind needs you."

"Yeah, well, okay. Mankind may need me, but right now, Star Trek needs me."

"Oh! They hired you to play a part in the movie??"

"Yep."

"How cool! Buy me tickets to the premiere and hey! Don't you scratch that scooter!"

Leonard left. He did not have a lot of clues as to how he was supposed to make a scooter function; but hell, he could operate a by-pass machine. How hard could a scooter be?

It proved to be much harder than he thought, but after a few attempts he managed to make it work and he rode back to Spock's apartment, hiding between a few cars. He had mentally calculated the time Spock needed to convince himself of the fact that he had to go to his Dad; the time he needed to cry, to get dressed and to cry again upon reading the list of medical instructions that Leonard had left for him. He knew Spock would do all those things because Leonard lived inside his mind, inside his heart, their consciousnesses had merged at so many levels. He could sense what Spock would do, what he was doing.

Spock was crying.

But after a moment, he wiped his tears away and got dressed. He called a cab, whom Leonard spotted stopping in front of the apartment building; he got in. 

Away he went. 

Leonard did not want to take any immediate action right now. His plan was to simply identify the location, the destination - he called it "the Planet Vulcan" in his mind, the strategic place which would be Spock's doom and Scotty's fortress. 

He proceeded to follow Spock's taxi slowly, taking care not to be detected. He knew Spock was very cautious of his surroundings, but he also counted on the fact that - since he was heading to the very destination he had tried so hard to avoid - he will leave caution aside and not discover him.

The taxi stopped after some good 40 minutes, in front of a residence well protected by tall, thick fences and guarded by heavy security. Leonard remained far from the site, looking through a pair of binoculars at what was going on. He could see Spock coming out of the taxi and exchanging a few words with the guard. 

He was allowed to get in on foot and the taxi turned and went away.

Leonard knew very well that unless he did something, this was the last time he would see Spock or hear from him. Still, he needed to think of what the correct course of action was, he needed to decide how to act. What to do. Police equalled to blowing Scotty up and he could not risk that. 

But would Sarek blow him up whilst Scotty was inside the premises? Wouldn't he risk blowing his own house up? 

And wasn't that just an empty threat?

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't; he could not take any risks.

Leonard returned home. He needed to ponder over everything. 

What would Sarek do?

Well, the worst things had happened during the past four hours. Sarek had taken Scotty, he had probably had time to administer him a dose of... torture, or whatever he was doing to him? He had probably discarded him somewhere when Spock arrived. He would now be busy with Spock. How would he react upon seeing Spock? He would probably start by punishing him for having defied him for so long. He would beat him - yes, repeatedly and for many hours. So that Spock would know who the master was. He was probably still doing it now.

Leonard cringed, suffocating with fury and anger.

Anger - that was it. When we are angry, our guard goes down, we no longer pay attention to details. We let ourselves be controlled. 

Spock - beaten, Scotty in no better state. He was sure of this.

Now was the time - but he needed a brave enough policeman, someone who would not be afraid of... The Great Mysterious Bastard whose name he still didn't know. Yes, okay, he was someone important, someone like... the Prime Minister or a Senator or an Ambassador... someone high and dangerous.

He logged into his hospital console, where he kept the records of all his patients. He needed to find someone who owed him - who worked with the law. 

He spent a few hours carefully filtering the database in search of an officer. 

He finally found one: James Kelvin. He was with the NCIS unit, which was inconvenient, but it was the best he had right now. 

He dialled the number.

"Hi, James. You probably don't remember me, I am Dr. Leonard M... Leonard Cain," he corrected himself. Gosh, he was really assimilating the other identity - and then, it just occurred to him that he was talking to someone named James.

"Hello, Doctor! What a pleasant surprise. How the hell are you?"

"I am well, but if you still mean it about owing me one, I need you."

"Hell, Doc', if it wasn't for you, I'd be having one lung right now," James exclaimed enthusiastically, because it was true - without Dr. Cain's prompt intervention, he wouldn't have survived that car-crash. "Shoot!"

"I do not want to... shoot, so to speak, but I need to report an offense and I need you to come over."

"Over where?"

"To my house."

"Doc', you haven't killed anyone, I hope?" James asked dubiously.

"No, no. I haven't done anything. This is not about me. Please come. I am texting you the address right now."

"I will be right over."

 

Leonard had dressed; he was ready to leave as soon as James would come over. He wanted to jump straight to work, but things weren't going like that - not when you asked for the help of law enforcement.

"What is going on, Doc'?"

"It is going to take a while to explain and we are going to lose very precious time, and meanwhile one or two people might die. Therefore, what I am asking you for - is a leap of faith and your confidence that you are going to make the arrest of the century."

"Who am I arresting and why?"

Leonard could not answer these questions - damn, those were The Very Questions.

"You are going to arrest my boyfriend's Father."

"What's his name?"

Leonard took a deep breath. He couldn't just say: I do not know. It would have made him look as if he had just gone mad. He decided to improvise.

He took a pencil and a pen - hadn't he used this means of communication before? - and he wrote:  _I have reasons to believe that there are listening devices in the apartment and therefore I do not wish to convey any information out-loud. I will take you there and you will see for yourself._

James did look at him as if Leonard was just a bit crazy; but he followed him. He had to see what all this was about, because despite Doc' acting weird, he was an exceptional man, who valued all life as sacred and who had done immense efforts to save his life. He could remember as if it were today how Leonard had actually crawled inside the damaged car in which he had been trapped after the accident had taken place, to stay with him, to monitor his vitals and to get an IV started, to keep him awake and alert while the other teams struggled to free him. And then the surgery, the endless hours Leonard had stayed by his side. He could not forget any of these things and for these reasons - as well for the sake of his own intuition which kept murmuring that something was up - he HAD to take that leap of faith and go investigate.

He wrote:  _Let's go._

Leonard followed him to the car and just silently indicated which way they had to go. 

While getting closer and closer to the destination, James kept glancing at him. Really? It is HERE where we are going? Are You Even Serious? You want me to arrest This Guy? Him, of all people?

He did not ask those questions, though, even if Leonard could... sense they were being formulated. Yes, Leonard wanted This Guy to be arrested, and No, he did not know his fucking name, and he did not want to! It was quite obvious that James KNEW, but he DIDN'T. He had promised he would never learn the name of that monster. His true name. Let the others relish in the truth. He was an ignorant and it was fine.

"Okay. You want me to arrest -"

"Stop. Do not speak his name."

James looked at him thoughtfully.

"I am not crazy. I just cannot hear it. It makes me sick."

"It makes ALL OF US sick..." James continued.

"He has my boyfriend and another friend. I can promise you they are in very bad shape. I am unsure what legal action can justify you barging in, but do it. Blame me, of you want."

"Okay... and what's your boyfriend's name, though?" James inquired.

That was another question Leonard was unable to answer to. But James could not know that.

"I told you. It's... his son."

James looked at him as if Leonard was talking to aliens.

"You are dating his son for real?"

"I won't be dating anyone if you don't get him out of there fast."

"Jesus Christ, man. Stay in the car. If I do not return in 10 minutes, call for back up - push this button over here, it will connect you to my commanding officer, tell him where you are and that I have not reported back, that I may be in trouble and he needs to send back-up asap. Are you good?"

"I'm good, man." Go."

"He shouldn't normally attack me or something, but I am expecting it, since we are talking about the least normal person in our country."

"Perhaps I should come along."

"No, dufus! Stay here, count the minutes, call for back-up if I don't come back."

James went to the gate, he showed his badge to the guard and after a few moments he was let in.

The gate closed behind him and Leonard had a very bad feeling.

A very bad feeling, a hunch… he would trust his own instincts.

He extended his hand towards the speaker and called for back-up.


	7. James Kirk

James Kelvin was a brave man. There was almost no task that he couldn't do, or so he thought. He had one major problem, though: he could not stand to see innocent people, especially young people - beaten. He could not stand the image of another human being collapsed down and hit mercilessly by someone who thought himself to be above law. 

James quickly understood that what was going on here was far more complicated - and yet simpler - than he thought. 

The entire country wanted this scum arrested, and yet there were never any good, legal reasons found to accomplish the task. He realized that he had been let pass quite easily and that he had a silent ally in the guard at the outer gate of the property. He figured out that very bad things were taking place inside the residence.

James Kelvin was a brave man.

He also was highly intelligent, intuitive, sometimes reckless, with a passion for justice and for doing the right thing. He knew that something BIG was going on here, and that his friend, Leonard Cain, the Doc whom he so much owed, had a hunch which was congruent with reality.

The mansion was silent. He decided that the best way to startle someone was... to call the front door. And he did exactly that. It was not a classical police-like behaviour; a team of officers would have normally surrounded the house, they would have warned the person inside, would have knocked, would have eventually broken into.

Well, not James. He had a more direct approach. Police won't exactly call on the front door just like that, no? The element of surprise.

And now -

Now was the time to take some risks.

The door opened and the first thing that James did was to punch the one who had opened in the face - not before making sure it was not a child. An adult could take a good punch in the nose without losing their life in the process. 

As the person whom he had hit was losing his balance, James was pleased to notice it was That Scum. For a chance of hitting that guy, James would have gladly traded his job, need be.

In stories and movies, the policeman yells various things, like Hands Up, Don't Move, Freeze, but James had no time for those right now. He was being attacked by a mad-man, furious at the intrusion, wanting to just smash the impertinent, intrusive police-officer to pieces. But James was young and agile. The attacker's fist was met with steel-like resistance. James caught his arm and pushed him against the nearest wall. A swift and clean move which was met with great resistance, as it was to be expected.

"Anyone in here?" James yelled, knowing that if there was anyone else in the house - staff, family - he would be quite finished.

"Help me," a faint cry was picked by James' sensitive hearing. 

It was not like in stories, where you had to fight hard to find the victim, hidden in some basement, tortured and emaciated. In real life, the victim was in the living-room. 

"You are under arrest," he told the Scum.

"For what?" the mocking response came.

"For having beaten your son and his friend," James said - it was a bluff, a very dangerous bluff and he could later be accused of abuse, since he didn't know for sure that the Scum's son was actually the one who had cried for help, or that he was even beaten or in danger  - it may very well be a trick to weaken the police's arm. But James was right now taking another leap of faith, trusting Leonard's previous words. Gosh, he was trusting him with his career, with his life - but he had done so before and Leonard had kept him alive. Leonard had not let him down.

As he was dragging the offender in the direction of the voice he had herd crying for help, he had the shock of his life - indeed, a younger man was laying on the floor, his face covered in blood. He seemed to be chocking with blood. God, he needed Leonard Right Now!

"What have you done to him, you---" James could barely restrain himself from speaking what was currently crossing his mind, all the insults he just wanted to throw that scum straight into his face, because - because - 

"I have done what I wanted since he is mine."

"He is an adult human being and certainly not yours!!" he cried, barely containing his anger. He would have wanted to reach for his phone to call the doctor. 

Very fortunately, there was no need for that because Leonard was already there.

"You followed me?" he asked him incredulously because that was extremely reckless. 

"Oh my God," Leonard exclaimed rushing to Spock. He passed his hands over his body professionally, to see what was broken. The ribs, fragile and not yet healed.

“You hit your own son with your legs?” he turned towards that son-of-a-bitch, outraged.

“And many other things,” came the shameless answer.

Leonard wanted to just rush to him and hit him over his face and just… pull his tongue out!! He could not stand hearing such horrors – truly he was as they had said, a monster. If he was capable of doing such a thing to his own son and to Scotty – “

“Where is Scotty?” he asked, panicked. “Spock, where is Scotty?”

“Basement,” Spock murmured.

Leonard and James exchanged one panicked and confused look. Confused because James had no idea what was with all those Star Trek nicknames; panicked because he had suddenly understood there was a second victim. A victim in the basement could not be good.

“I called for your back-up,” Leonard told James and then he rushed to find the basement.

 

Leonard did not want to recall the state he had found Scotty in, but he knew quite well that those images will forever remain embedded in his mind. It was bad, bad, bad. It was unthinkable that a human being could treat another human being like that.

He had come to the living-room carrying him in his arms. He lay him on the floor near Spock – barely conscious and not exactly resembling to a human being anymore.

It was also, all that James could take. It was fortunate that the back-up officers had arrived, otherwise it was doubtful that Spock’s father would come out of his hands alive. And James couldn’t care less if he was going to be arrested too and if he was going to lose his job.

“Please, do not hurt him,” came the faint plea from Scotty.

 

It was that fragile murmur that changed everything.

James froze; Leonard remained with the wet napkin in his hand, which he had used to wipe Scotty’s face clean. Spock had closed his eyes, because he was used to this kind of behaviour from Scotty, always wanting to protect that being which did not deserve to be protected. But the proud, merciless Sarek, as Leonard had named him, felt like suffocating.

It was when he realized that love was stronger than death, than pain, than lack of mercy and than lack of humanity. And that he did not deserve it.

“Silence, listen to me,” he ordered. “It was me who has beaten these two men. I wanted to kill them. I admit everything. I am guilty.”

Spock would have liked to shake his head, but he was too ill to do so.

Leonard thought this was just another trick.

The policemen doubted that The Scum would remain in their custody for more than 24 hours – this was the person who always got away with it.

Only Scotty understood, right before the dark veil of unconsciousness silenced his mind.

 

It was a lot of work and Leonard had done it all silently, without complaining and almost without resting.

He had taken both Spock and Scotty to the hospital and placed him in the same ICU unit. He felt they should be close, as it was often the case with the victims of severe abuse. Scotty had had a profound moment of madness soon after arriving at the hospital, kicking and screaming and wanting to pull out the IVs and just… jump out the window if he could. Instead of restraining him, Leonard had kept him in his arms, in a tight embrace, so as not to let him hurt himself.

Slowly, he calmed down.

Also, he stopped speaking completely.

Days passed, and under Leonard’s skilful hands, they both got better. He did not try to force Scotty to talk. That problem would fix in time, he thought, hopefully without the help of therapy.

“I am gonna take you home, to my home, so that we build new memories. And I am going to look after you. Hey, look who came by!” he said, looking towards the doorway, where James Kelvin was standing. “How you doin’, kid? Did not lose your job, we hope?”

“Nah. I got promoted to Captain.”

“We should then call you Jim Kirk!” Leonard exclaimed, and even Spock and Scotty smiled. “Hey, let me introduce you to those two: my boyfriend, Spock; don’t you need a First Officer?” he added with a wink. “And this one here is Scotty. He’s my brother.”

James looked confused now.

“And my brother too.”

James looked even more confused.

“Look how adorable he is, our Captain,” Leonard smiled. “We should adopt him.”

“Definitely,” Spock agreed. He was trying to be light-hearted and even joke a bit, for Scotty’s sake, because he was very worried about him. When someone stops talking… you know there is something very, very wrong.

He turned his head to look at his friend. He picked the silent plea from his eyes.

“Ask him yourself, Simon…” Spock murmured.

“Do not call me Simon,” he managed to say. “That is no longer my name.”

Leonard and James were holding their breath, seeing that the fragile human had resumed speaking. It was important and wonderful, even though painful things may come out of his mouth – but then again, it was to be expected. The pain had to be let out.

“Scotty,” James said. “You wanted to ask me something?”

“Yes,” he said softly.

“Go on then. I will answer truthfully.”

“How… is he?”

“He pleaded guilty.”

“To… what?”

“To everything.”

“Okay. Is he in prison?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks.”

The conversation had visibly drained Scotty. Leonard took over and made sure he was comfortable, then he applied a sedative to help him rest a bit. Asking the difficult questions of life always takes a part of your soul away, and the bleeding wound may never heal.

Spock extended one hand to touch Scotty’s hand; he wanted to hold it. But Scotty refused, slowly pulling his hand away; he could not stand to be touched by other hands, except when it came to medical care.

Only one could touch him – even if that meant torturing him and beating him to death.

As Spock was falling asleep, James took Leonard’s arm and they stepped outside, on the corridor.

“Come on, Doc’. You need to change ideas a bit. Let’s grab a cup of coffee and you can tell me about Star Trek.”

“That does not qualify as <changing ideas>, you know?”

“Yeah, I noticed you three are quite immersed in a weird Star Trek nickname thing.”

Leonard touched the vending machine with his badge and two coffees were prepared.

“Bad coffee, good company,” James smiled sitting down and pulling Leonard near him.

“You brat.”

“So what’s with the Star Trek thing?”

“It’s nothing much. I have been a Star Trek fan ever since I could remember, ever since The New Generation series were a thing. Ah, Patrick Stewart!”

“Yeah, he’s cool. So, you’re calling him Spock?”

“Yes.”

“How so?”

“He could not say his name when he was first brought to the hospital. He managed only the first two letters. I made a joke and finished the name for him: Spock. So, it was like a personal joke. But then, I got used to calling him like that. I am well aware you now know his real name; however, I will ask of you not to say it out loud.”

“Why not?”

“Because for me, he is Spock. I do not want to know his real name.”

“But you saw his father… how can you…?”

“How can I not know it? The truth is, I am clueless to the entire <father-is-a-jerk> thing. I gave that son of a bitch the name Sarek, you know, like in Star Trek, he is Spock’s dad in the movie. Except, in the movie, Sarek was fantastic and Mark Lenard was just dreamy. In real life, he is an abusive bastard.”

“You are right there. But how can you not know…?”

“… what he has done? Yeah, this is what Spock has been asking me ever since the beginning. I am truly clueless. I do not read the news much, I am deeply immersed in my studies, I work very hard to keep myself updated to the latest medical technologies; it annoys me to even turn the TV on. Except for watching Star Trek episodes!”

“… why am I not surprised,” James murmured amused.

“Predictable, eh? Anyway, Jimmy-boy, this is me. An ignorant. I do not know what the dude did; all I know is he has beaten two innocent beings, one of which adores him.”

“Yeah, really, what’s with the young dude? He seems shattered.”

“He IS shattered. He loves and worships that scum.”

“I cannot understand how you can love such disgusting, evil, non-human person. I mean, it cannot be the fact that he’s good-looking; there must be something else. I do not know what.”

“I do not think it is because of the looks either. Scotty is not a shallow person, he is good, kind, intelligent, empathic… He sees something in him, something we do not.”

“I for one truly don’t. So... Scotty... as you call him, is he an engineer? What does he do for living?"

"As far as I could ascertain, he is a very technical guy, good at everything except his own heart which really needs fixing, but which I doubt it can be fixed."

"And you're gonna live with the two of them now?"

"Yes, at my place. It is close to the hospital and they both need a fresh start in a place which is free of memories. Of bad memories, I mean."

"You are right. You are also very kind. You think Scotty would like a job?"

"I think an activity of some sort will be very good for him. It will keep his mind busy and give him a sense of purpose, other than thinking of we-know-who, all day long. What do you have in mind?"

"He could be of use in my surveillance team, on a technical role. If he is as brilliant as he seems to be, then he will make a difference and I will look after him as well."

"You're a good person, Jim. How come you are so... interested in our fate?"

"Perhaps I want to be a part of your story too; after all, you do need a captain, not to mention my name is James, so..."

Leonard laughed a little.

"You do qualify for the position," he added smiling. "Hey, you know what? The apartment next to mine is going to be free to rent soon, Jason's moving out. How about you move in?"

"And who is this Jason?"

"Jason is my neighbour. He has a cool scooter which he gives to me whenever I go chase for stuff. And I can't even - uh, nevermind?!"

"Do you have a permit for scooter?"

"Why do you have to be a policeman?"

'You better behave yourself, Dr. Leonard, or the new character in your story might have to arrest you."

Leonard laughed wholeheartedly. Jim was a good, fun, entertaining and compassionate person and it was so fortunate that they had met. 


	8. What's In A Name?

“Come on, guys. We gotta help Jim move in later, so for now we need to settle. Spock, don’t lift anything. Just pick the keys from my left pocket and open the door.”

Spock picked the keys and opened the door. It was a practical, as well as a symbolic gesture. It was good that they weren’t going back to his apartment, because too many bad memories were coming from there. Leonard’s apartment was… neutral, a good place to start anew, and given their common tendency to always get in trouble, quite close to the hospital.

Finally discharged, they had just stopped to buy a few groceries. Spock took them to the kitchen.

A new chapter of their story was commencing; Spock felt confident. His father was finally locked away; he and Leonard could explore their love-story; together, they would help Scotty get over his own grief and the horrible memories.

Scotty was the last to come in. He was apathetic and silent; everything was just the same to him. It did not matter whether he was here or at the hospital… or wherever.

“Okay, family meeting,” Spock said as soon as the groceries were safely deposed on the kitchen counter.

They all gathered around Spock in the living room.

“I do not want to talk about what has been at all, except one thing: Leonard, I am sorry for having pushed you away. I was sorry to do so.”

Leonard smiled, and he looked downwards.

“It does not matter anymore… I am just glad it is over.”

“So am I. As far as I am concerned, my former life will remain behind me from this day on. My name, my identity, my family – I never want to hear about them again.”

“Except you cannot go about calling yourself Spock,” Scotty murmured unhappily.

“Actually, I can. It is a pretty common last name in Germany, and I will let you two choose a first name for me. James is ensuring that we enter the witness protection programme which ensures the change of identity, and therefore I have a legal basis for changing my name.”

“Okay, sure,” Scotty said. He really was uninterested.

Leonard and Spock exchanged a worried look. Yes, it was going to take a while for their friend to get better.

“Scotty, you are gonna change your name too?”

“Dunno, if you think it’s good…”

“It would be good for your protection.”

“He already knows you are calling me Scotty, and by the way he already knows we are calling you Spock, so I am not sure you are doing this nae change in order to protect yourselves, ourselves or whatever, or just because you wanna consolidate this ridiculous Star Trek story.”

“Look at me, sweetie,” Leonard said going to him and cupping his face. “You are doing the name change because your real names are connected to facts and words and people and memories you want to leave behind. It so happens that you chose – or were given – nicknames coming from a movie. It is alright. We borrow something of an imaginary world, but not just the names; also a bit of the personalities behind that name. There’s something in a name, more than the sum of its letters. There’s something in the name Spock; some…. Determination, straightforwardness and logic; also in the name Leonard; if I hadn’t thought of my brave counterpart in the movie, fighting aliens and stuff, do you think I would have gathered the courage to come and look for you in that pit of hell? And there is something in the name Scotty – delicacy and grace, and force. So I for one am going to stick to those names.”

They all remained silent, contemplating the truth behind Leonard’s passionate words.

“Now the question is, Scotty, how do you wanna be? What do you want to do with yourself? What do you want to leave behind and what do you see before you?”

Scotty’s eyes had filled with tears, which he wiped away with his sleeve.

“I feel tiny,” he murmured.

“You weight 121 pounds at present moment, but that means nothing. Your mind, your soul are not tiny. Tell me how you see yourself. What you aspire to. What you want to do, with life and with yourself.”

“I think I want to start confronting my demons,” he said, looking up towards Spock who had leaned against a table and was silently witnessing the conversation.

“Okay. Tell me about those demons. Which is the first?”

“It obsesses me that I have a life debt towards… towards Spock.”

Spock closed his eyes. Him carrying Scotty through the swamp, for miles and miles. Dirt and bombings. No water. Mud. Those memories were hard to leave behind.

“How about… it obsesses you no longer? Obsessions are not good. You should perhaps ask him how he wants it repaid.”

“I haven’t thought of that,” Scotty murmured thoughtfully. “How DO you want it repaid? He then asked Spock, looking up to him.

“I would say by taking care of your own life, but I know you oh so well and I am pretty sure you will not do that, or the answer will not satisfy you. Pick something to do. Train into something that is useful for others. Like, I don’t know… firefighter or paramedic. Save someone else’s life.”

Scotty leaned his chin on his knees, thinking. He could see hope, somewhere in the darkness that was his mind. _Save someone else’s life._

“I will do that. Thank you, Spock,” he murmured, addressing him on his nickname for the first time.

“But that is not all,” Leonard continued. “You must also have dreams and expectations of your own. You will pay your life-debt and will enjoy whatever you decide to do, I am sure of that. But what do YOU want to do? What do you feel you are best at?”

“Besides annoying you two?” he found the strength to smile. “I guess… I guess engines of some sort, computers…”

“Jim was mentioning something about a position inside his department, in the IT field. Something having to do with surveillance.”

“I’d really love that,” Scotty said, his eyes brightening. “Where is this Jim?”

“He is moving into the free apartment next door to us. We’re gonna be neighbours. I promised we would help move his things.”

“You know wha’? I am really looking forward to that! I am going to help with the groceries, okay?”

Scotty jumped up and went to the kitchen, eager to just… do something.

Leonard shook his head a little.

“I think… paramedic may be a better idea than firefighter. He would work in teams and probably won’t jump head first into the first big fire…” Spock said tiredly.

“I will get him into the training program. As he is a good driver, he will probably get to drive the ambulance in the first months… and if he does get to work with Jim too, he will keep an eye on him.”

“I hope so. He is still… very fragile.”

“What about us, Spock, you and me?”

“You and I are never going to be separated, ever again,” Spock said coming closer to him and sitting down on the couch with him, wrapping one arm around him to be able to hold him closer, to feel him.

“I hope so… because ever since I met you, all I want to do is to be alone with you and I never seem to manage.”

“I want to make you happy. You ask us all those questions about how we see ourselves, about what we want, about how we imagine our future. What about you, Leonard? What do YOU want, how do YOU see your own life, which me and Si – Scotty have sort-of… ambushed? Sometimes I feel so guilty.”

“I want… routine, I guess. I want to know that you two are safe. And that you won’t disappear without a trace, abandoning me. And coming home to you. And making love to you.”

Spock felt shivers. Yes, their first night… had not taken place yet.

“I think I am going to start applying this plan right now,” Spock murmured, pulling him closer and kissing him.

“Let us first make sure that Scotty is safe and comfortable in his room and plug in his gadgets and computers… and we promised to help Jim with his moving. And then, we can move on to our plan, how does that sound?”

“Terrific,” Spock murmured to his ear, adding one small kiss to his neck, which gave Leonard goose-bumps.

 

The afternoon proved to be much busier than they expected, and not only because Scotty had five laptops and they all had to be connected in a specific manner, and oh mercy, Leonard did not have the right number of switches or whatever…

The internet guy had to come and fix the issue, then a carpenter had to come and fix the door which was now no longer closing; then Jim came, carrying a virtually endless number of boxes; Leonard did not want to allow either Spock or Scotty to do any heavy lifting, so he had to do all the helping by himself.

“I would have thought that policemen were minimal creatures!!!” Leonard complained.

“What do you even mean by minimal creatures?” Jim laughed.

“Uh… minimalism? Having… very few items… you know? Not a lot of stuff?”

“Well, I have a lot of stuff.”

“Yeah, I can see that!!”

“Sorry! I should have hired a moving company. So how are your men? Have they settled?”

“We are modifying the apartment to accommodate our pets.”

“Huh? What pets? The landlord said I could not bring my chinchilla…”

“By pets I mean Scotty’s damn laptops… wait, did you say chinchilla???”

“Yeah… gave it to my girlfriend instead, so chinchilla is safe.”

“Oh, so there is a girlfriend,” Leonard giggled.

“There might be a girlfriend, unless the cute Scottish guy wants the chinchilla for himself?”

Leonard chocked.

“You listen here, brat! Can you even begin to compute the consequences of mixing chinchilla and computers? Can you see the… sparks, with your mind eye?”

“Okay, fine, fine…”

But Leonard had stopped in the middle of he corridor, and not only to catch his breath.

“Jimmy. Don’t get your hopes high with that kid. He’s been through severe trauma. And it is my understanding that… he… still thinks of that jerk.”

James sighed.

“I like him, I will tell you the truth, but of course I do not get any hopes up. The man’s a victim of rape and torture; he needs therapy and HELP I would not even begin how to give. So I am really happy he lives with you, Doc’.”

“Meanwhile, try to be his friend… I am a type of mother hen, and Spock is, you know, the life-saver, so he really needs a friend.”

“He also really needs to come and testify against the scum, in a little while.”

“That will not go well.”

“You bet it won’t. Come on Doc, this was the last box!! Thanks a lot for all the help, I really appreciate it. Go and… have a beautiful night, okay? Tomorrow morning, I will see you three for breakfast. I am making pancakes, and he cute Scottish guy gets a full English breakfast à la Jim.”

Leonard smiled, he loved this guy.

He went to his apartment, where Spock was preparing pasta; he washed his hands and dragged Scotty to the kitchen so that they could eat.

“You both need to wash your hair,” Spock noticed. “You have cobwebs all over you. Let me hereby inform you that you live with a person who is obsessed with cleaning.”

Leonard smiled, because he was equally obsessed.

After having eaten and putting everything away, Leonard retired to the shower; strangely how his heart was beating faster.

When he emerged from there, still wiping his hair dry with a towel, loving arms immediately pulled him to the sheets, covering him with kisses; Leonard go lost into the sensations, pushing aside all fears of… “how would this be”, because he had never been with a man before; but Spock  seemed to know what he was doing, and it was good and right to be so. Hot hands explored his body, learning him, caressing him with love and tenderness and passion; and when their bodies were finally one, Leonard gasped, almost forgetting how to breathe – because he had never felt so… complete.


	9. Always Going To Him

Leonard could not believe such happiness was even possible, so he kept waiting for life to slap him once again. He would come home from the hospital and find Spock at home; his compulsion to cleaning and order meant the house was impeccably looking all the time and even the food was neatly ordered in the fridge.

Leonard loved it. And he loved Spock – he loved him so much, that he could barely manage being at work for such long hours. He had to make serious efforts to just not think how Spock’s arms around his waist felt.

They had settled in a good routine. Leonard was working at the hospital; Spock was staying at home and had organized a mini-musical studio for his own work in the corner of the hallway. With good headphones, he had no problem focusing. The income he generated was not as steady as the one Leonard generated, but things were good between them and Spock did not feel like a kept man. Besides, Leonard loved to take care of him – of _them_ , to be more precise.

Scotty had started his training to become a paramedic and he was also going to the police station with Jim every day in the afternoon, for a few hours, to help with surveillance or to analyse computers which were being brought in for inspection, when there was a suspicion of child pornography or other type of cybercrime.

“Brought you a cup of coffee,” Jim said placing a mug near the young Scotsman.

“Huh? Oh, thanks,” he murmured, not mentioning that it was rather weird for the Captain to bring coffee to one of his subordinates. Scotty was, however, immune to any small attempts at earning his attention, because his own attention was focused inwards, deeply immersed in memories of another person calling his name, touching his body, touching his heart in ways no one else will ever be able to.

“Anything yet?”

“Yes, I recovered a good thousand of photos of teenage girls from the hard-drive. He thought he would be able to delete them but truth his, nothing really gets deleted nowadays.”

“I am getting the arrest warrant sorted so that we can go get him. Good job, Scotty.”

“Thanks, Captain.”

Jim started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it just sounded like in Star Trek.”

“Many things are like in Star Trek nowadays.”

“Yeah. I saw that you registered the option for name-change. You did not want to change the entire name?”

“Nah. Simon Scott sounds pretty normal. And I wanna keep the first name I had before.”

“Why?” Jim asked, with curiosity.

“Because someone used to speak it, and that is a beautiful memory I want to keep.”

Jim sighed, sitting on the corner of Scotty’s desk.

“You also have very bad memories of that particular someone, Scotty. You should let them go. You deserve so much better than that in your life, even when it comes to memories, not to mention when it comes to the person near which those memories are built.”

He hoped he was not crossing the line – Scotty had refused therapy and he did not seem to get any better, he was functioning, but not actually… living.

“Memories are not something which can be deserved,” he shrugged. “But you are right, they can be good or bad. And if that is all I’ll ever have of him, then I prefer to have memories, good or bad.”

“How… how can you love him? How? There is nothing to love, and everything to despise.”

“Perhaps. But I love him nonetheless. Love him… does not even begin to describe. I adore him. He is my entire life.”

Jim blinked a couple of times.

“Why? Sorry – I do not mean to sound pushy or something. I am just trying to understand. I want to be your friend. I was hoping for more, I will be honest with you, but given the facts, I do not believe it is possible… am I right?”

“Friends sounds okay,” Scotty said, sounding… not really interested.

A few moments of silence settled between them. It was not awkward; it was a moment of reciprocal understanding.

Jim felt they would become good friends, but not before Scotty found some much needed peace and healing.

“You do know you have to testify, Scotty, yes? You may love him, but he has done very grave things, a lot of people have died. He needs to remain in prison.”

“I guess you have a mountain of evidence against him, I don’t really understand why I am needed.”

“The mountain of evidence against him is circumstantial. He has not confessed his other crimes. You know well that we attempted to arrest him several times in the past and… we never managed, because his team of lawyers is so formidable, and they have always found a way out. If you do not testify now, for abuse, torture, attempted murder he might get out of there. And we do not want him out of there.”

“I know he must remain in prison. For his own sake, not for mine. And to protect Spock from him. I know all this. I do have one condition…”

“You know that there is nothing I can really do, Scotty. The witness protection program…”

“No, leave all that aside. I am now speaking to someone who says he wants to be my friend and who can perhaps understand me. And who is able to render my message to the right persons.”

Jim sighed – he already hated this.

“Okay, what is it?”

“I would like to see him.”

Now he was sure he didn’t like this.

“Scotty…”

“I know all that you are thinking. But I just want to see him. I won’t even talk.”

“No one is allowed to see him.”

“I am the key-witness. Put me on the short visitation list. I am sure you will manage.”

 

Spock opened the door when Leonard rang and embraced him immediately after, inhaling his scent, burrowing his nose into the crook of Leonard’s neck. He SO loved him.

“God, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby,” Leonard said melting into the kiss which followed.

After washing his hands and putting his bag away, he collapsed on the sofa, to be immediately joined by his beloved one.

“How was your day, what did you do? Tell me everything, while I catch my breath. Damn elevator is not functioning again,” Leonard whined.

“I finished the orchestration of a new piece I started on Monday.”

“Oh! The one you could not find a title for?”

“Yeah. I finally found a title: _La llama de tu amor_. It is a line from a poem by Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer.”

“Very romantic!”

“I know. Since I am happy… it is normal that the music I am writing is a bit mushy.”

“I do not find it mushy. I find Romanticism one of the best eras of literature and music, and the best feature a man can have.”

Spock smiled, blushing at the compliment.

“Are you happy, Leonard? Do I manage to make you happy?”

“I have never been so happy. Doesn’t it look so?”

“It does, you are… shining… but it is very nice to hear it as well. You know… doublechecking!”

“The only shadow I still feel is because of Scotty. He really seems unwell.”

Spock sighed.

“Yes, he not only seems so, but he actually **is** unwell. Wait and see the e-mail Jim sent me, regarding him.”

“What, what?” Leonard murmured, already very worried. Jim and Scotty had been working together that afternoon, so if a mail had been sent, that could not be well.

Spock handed Leonard his tablet, which was displaying the respective e-mail.

_Hey there,_

_Scotty requests to see your father in prison. He is adamant and rather unreasonable. He says he has this one desire, and we should do so, in case we still want him to testify. He said he only wants to see him, not to talk. I do not like the sound of this, perhaps you guys can talk him out of it._

_I love him dearly, and I fear for his sanity._

_Yours,_

_Jim._

Leonard left the tablet fall on the sofa, covering his face with his hands and sighing.

“I do not like the sound of this either. But he is stubborn; if we find a way around this to forbid him to go and see him, I am quite sure he will do a stupid thing.”

“Like what…?” Spock asked, severely worried.

“Like hacking into the prison’s security and disabling God-knows-what and making a mess out of everything, and eventually getting himself arrested and messing his own life even more.”

“He is totally capable of that. I cannot forbid him. I wish my hold over him were stronger, but unfortunately, his mind is so subdued by my father, that I think he does not even listen to what we say.”

“He barely registers our conversations, yes, that much is true.”

Scotty was just returning home as well. He came inside the apartment, dropping his backpack negligently on the floor. He knew he was annoying the super-cleaning-freak Spock, but then again… he didn’t really care.

“Hey,” he greeted them apathetically.

“Hello, Scotty,” Leonard chirped, trying to sound a bit more joyful. “How are you? How was your day?”

“It was boring and miserable as most of my days,” he said disappearing into the bathroom.

When he emerged from there, minutes later, he felt ashamed of himself.

“Sorry guys. You don’t deserve any of this. I am being a jerk. Sorry.”

“Scotty…” Leonard said with a sigh. “Come on, sit down. Spock is bringing you a brandy and perhaps you can actually talk to us about the boring and miserable.”

Scotty sat down on the carpet, he felt so low and awful, that he did not even feel he deserved to sit at the same level with these men, his friends who worried about him, who had saved him, nursed him back to health, fed him and loved him unconditionally. And every day – he was being a jerk.

“Jim told us that you want to see a certain person.”

“Yes, I do,” he replied simply.

“Why, Scotty?” Leonard asked as kindly as he could.

Scotty wanted to just curl on the floor and scream. Of course, he didn’t do that. He was quite sure they would lock him away if he did.

“I miss him,” he replied, with honesty.

Spock looked downwards. What in the world can you even reply to that?

“My father is an evil, evil man,” he murmured. “He is my father, and I just… hate him,” he said with disgust.

“I know,” Scotty replied softly. “I know. Everyone does. Everyone but me.”

“Why?”

Strange how he was being asked this particular question quite a lot lately.

“Because even for the evillest person in the world there is someone who loves them. Despite everything. And for him, I am that person.”

Scotty’s phone beeped just then. It was the same phone as before – and the same message tone as when HE would text him to come, and he would go. He knew that HE could not text him now, they didn’t have phones in prison – but his heart still missed a beat.

It was from Jim.

<You are allowed to visit tomorrow at 9 AM. You have 10 minutes, supervised and recorded interaction. Your choice if you talk or not.>

Scotty smiled, which was very rare, showing them the message.

“Even from the prison he calls, and you go,” Spock said sorrowfully.

Scotty didn’t comment. He knew that he will always, always, always go to him.

Always.


	10. The Needs Of The Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!  
> Mentions of Afghanistan War and Taliban Army.
> 
> WARNING!  
> This is a story, treat it as such.

Scotty was buttoning up his white shirt, while Leonard was looking at him from the doorway of his room. 

"Is there anything I can do or say, anything at all, to stop you from going to him?"

"Nope," Scotty murmured.

"Okay. Then I won't waste my time trying. Can I ask why you feel the need to do this to yourself?"

"I have been asked this question at least ten times in the past two days, by you, by James and by Spock. You all need to stop now. I will go testify against the man, it is my right to see him and talk to him if I so wish."

Leonard took a deep breath. Oh boy, this is going to be interesting.

"Can I come with you?"

"Jim is coming with me. He is actually driving me there and waiting for me outside. I think he fears that I'll help him escape or something."

"Are you planning on helping him escape?"

"No, it would not be good for him."

"You are right. It wouldn't."

"Okay, I am ready. Leonard, thanks for your concern but I will be fine. Don't obsess over it more than I do and leave me be. I won't jump off a bridge or shoot myself in front of his cell or something equally radical. Leave me be."

"I am just worried about you, kid. That is all. I care for you."

"I know, and I appreciate it, but I am a big boy. Okay? See you at dinner."

"Okay... come home quickly. I'll make pizza."

"You said we are not allowed to eat junk food."

"You are allowed today; besides, I think I also need junk food. You know... comfort food. I need something to soothe me after what you are currently making me go through."

"Drama queen," Scotty murmured as he was going out, shaking his head. 

 

They kept worrying about him as if he was a teenager facing... God knew what. He was facing a man in prison, it was no big deal, they were going to be separated by a thick protection glass. It did not matter that no number of bars or glasses could separate his own soul from that terrible man's soul, no matter what everyone said. Some things were just... forever.

Jim was waiting for him outside in the police car. He rolled his eyes, why couldn't they just take a taxi?

Of course, Jim picked his exasperation quite easily.

"Don't be a toddler. You are going to a maximum-security facility. You should be grateful for the police car and the company."

"I do not mean to sound ungrateful... sorry. It seems all I do is to upset people, even when I do not say a single word."

Now it was Jim's turn to sigh.

"Come on in," he said unlocking the passenger door, "and put your seat-belt on."

"Aye, Captain."

Jim let out a short laugh.

"Now all we have to do is to name my car The Enterprise."

"You could do that, you know? To be in-character. Even though you make a pretty good James Tiberius Kirk already, if you ask me."

"I am?"

"Yes, you are; blond, blue eyes, cool hair, a Captain, having a crew consisting of Spock, Leonard and Scotty. You are living in the perfect story."

Jim was laughing hard now.

"Well, in my story, there is... how do they call them? The OTP, consisting of Scotty and Jim, so the story is not perfect."

"What is OTP?" Scotty inquired. "It sounds like a disease, you know... like OCD."

"OTP means one-true-pairing."

"So, in your head, I am your true pair?"

"Yes," Jim said feeling his cheeks burning. It was ridiculous, he knew that... but he liked the young Scotsman and could not help it.

Scotty remained silent for a while.

"I am sorry," he then murmured. "You are a terrific guy. But you know... how I am. I cannot... I only..."

"You only love him."

"Yes. And that cannae be changed. But I hope you will not... despise me for it."

"No, I only despise him, and that also cannot be helped. Seriously, Scotty. Please don't feel bad about what I told you. I like you, you are great, and I was... hoping for more, but I also respect you and your honesty and your loyal heart, even if you have given it to the worst person. I hope we can be friends and... brothers."

"We can, and we are already. As for him... You truly believe he is the worst person?"

"Scotty... he bloody financed a war! How many people have died, huh? His own son had to enlist in the army opposing the one he had financed, to prevent people from dying - and even so, thousands have perished."

"I know. But he only... financed the war. He hasn't done any actual killing and he - "

"DON'T. Do not find excuses for him."

"Sorry."

 

Scotty leaned his head onto the car-window and said nothing else for the rest of the trip. He knew all too well that everyone judged him for loving "that monster" as they all said and thought, and it felt as if he himself was a monster. Loving an evil person transformed you into an evil person as well, it was the logical course of things. Right? 

He felt bad. Not because he loved "that monster" - the love he felt for him was pretty much the only thing he treasured, everything else was... darkness. He felt bad because of being judged, because being considered immature and even mentally ill. They all thought he needed counselling. 

He had to go to several procedures before visiting, once they got to the facility. He went through them patiently and all of the guards were looking at him with a mixture of despise, pity and respect - this was the guy who was going to testify and ensure that a certain scum was going to rot in prison. 

Two guards were coming with him. Scotty had insisted for Jim to wait for him in the main hallway. He just needed a break.

"Why do I need two guards?"

"We are here for your protection, Sir," the answer came.

"Is he going to set me on fire through the security glass? Stay at the end of the hall, please. I want privacy."

"Sir, this is against the regu-"

"I am your key witness. Spare me the regulation quotations."

The guards had probably been instructed as to how it was possible to be sent away by Mr.-Key-Witness, so they made a few steps back, positioning themselves at opposite sides of the small corridor. Everything was being recorded anyway, Scotty knew it, the guards knew it; it wasn't "privacy" per se. It was the illusion of privacy. Scotty was going to settle for what he could obtain.

 

He took a few steps closer and found himself in front of the protection glass, separating him from the one he so loved.

He stopped. It was as if time itself stopped. 

He felt like he couldn't breathe, like there was no need to breathe.

The glass was sound-proof; they had to put on an ear-piece in order to hear one another. Scotty had it in his hand, but he did not put it on yet. He was just looking at him, just looking, just looking.

The old, broken man stood up and came closer to the glass. 

They were looking in each other's eyes, and Scotty forced himself to withstand that gaze; it was as if he wanted to absorb it, to absorb all of him. The extent of his adoration was... impossible to grasp, even for himself.

It was silly. But he extended his hand as if he could touch Him - he placed it on the glass. He remembered having seen such a gesture in a movie, in Sherlock maybe. 

His gesture was mirrored, to his great surprise; between their hands, just the cold glass; what he wouldn't give just to be able to touch him. Just to touch him.

He saw his lips moving - _Simon_ , he was saying. 

He wanted to hear him say his name. He put the ear-piece on.

"Simon."

"Yes," he murmured brokenly. 

"Why are you here, my loved one?"

He took a deep breath. His loved one? Was there love? Was there even the shadow of love? Was there anything?

"I wanted to see you," he managed to whisper, with great difficulty, it was as if the words themselves were burning.

"Why?" the other man insisted. 

"I missed you," Scotty managed to say.

There were no other words spoken for a few moments and Scotty's hand did not move from the glass. It was as close as he was ever going to get to him.

"Tell me about the film you and my son and his boyfriend like. About the character whose... name you gave me."

"Star Trek?" Scotty said, with a faint smile. "You were given the name _Sarek_. I think Leonard gave you that name."

"Yes, I remember now. What kind of a person was he?"

"You want me to tell you about a film character?"

"Yes."

"Well... Sarek was Spock's dad. You already know that your son's name is now _Spock_. So, in the films – 'cause there are quite a couple of them, Sarek was one of the elders of the planet Vulcan. He was also an Ambassador and had mediated many conflicts. He was someone who would work for peace. He was unable to stop the destruction of his planet, though, when some bad guy threw a sort of bomb at it. Most of the people on his planet died. His own wife died. He spent the rest of his life rebuilding what had been destroyed, somewhere else. Your son wrote many stories in which... in which Sarek's next big love was –"

"... was you, Scotty."

"Yeah, myself. I mean. Not myself – the Scotty from the movies."

"Scotty..." he murmured, wanting to just intertwine his fingers with his and hold his hand. "Go home, Simon. And do what you believe is right."

"Be Sarek," Scotty murmured. After which, he turned and left, to be accompanied by the guards outside.

 

"What are you reading?" Spock asked, turning on one side in bed to be able to look at Leonard, whose attention was focused on his tablet.

"I am reading a story by AnJoan Grey," he smiled.

"Is it any good?"

"It is a very particular story. One could say it is like a reportage, like narrating events of his own life.  _How I Started Living In A Story_."

Spock smiled.

"What can I say? Sometimes, reality is much more interesting than any story I could invent. I would have never thought that I should live something like that. Since the actual facts surpass my own imagination, I thought they would make an interesting story."

"How will it end?"

"You know I always write happy endings. But this time I do not know. This story is not only mine and yours – I mean – it is not only about ourselves. It is also about other people and their story might not turn out well."

"Do not underestimate Scotty... there is still a lot which can improve, which can change. Perhaps he'll fall in love with Jim."

"He won't. His heart belongs to only one person; I know him well."

"You love him a lot, don't you?"

"I do. You know that. Are you jealous?"

"No. Jealousy is a feeling I have never experienced. I guess I trust people too much, and I trust you completely."

"Even though I have brought you suffering in the past, and promised you things and broke my promises?"

"Even though. I guess I have enough in common with Scotty. Him too trusts too much, to the point of self-annihilation, which I know well it is not the case with you and me."

Spock smiled, passing one hand through his hair.

"Tell me what your father did – the general ideas. No details on the atrocities, please, because I cannot endure hearing about acts of war and torture."

"You still haven't figured it out?"

"No. I refused. I refuse to Google-search him and to read the news. I refuse to know his name."

"And you are doing very good. Leonard, my father is one of the richest people of this country. And when faced with pain, people can choose to spend their money in ways that... are unconceivable. He wasn't always like that, though. But on April 2014, you may have heard on the news, I am not sure if you still remember, there was an attack over a hospital in Kabul, Afghanistan. It no longer matters who attacked – there is a debate about that. My mother was deployed there with the Red Cross. Three American citizens died. She was one of them."

Leonard felt his reason darkening. This was much, much worse than he expected.

"She was a doctor?"

"Yes. She was an EMD and a Red Cross volunteer. Of all countries to do volunteer work in, she had chosen the most dangerous one – because this was how she was. She would go where she was needed the most. She wanted to make a difference. She saved countless lives, until she lost hers."

"I am so very sorry. So, your father... went mad."

"Yes. He went mad and remained a mad man, driven only by the will to revenge, even though I am not sure he actually loved her. He never treated her well. But she loved him nonetheless – he has the gift of making the most wonderful people love him."

"So... he... retaliated."

"Yes. He started using his money to finance US army interventions in Afghanistan and I know of many attacks which were undergone with money and weapons and supplies coming from him. Among them..."

Spock took a deep breath.

"If you want to stop telling me this story, you can. It is alright."

"No, you need to know. You need to know who I am – what I am. Among them, there was a bombing of another hospital – a bombing which was undergone by us, by our people. A hospital in Kunduz. Air-bombed. By us. 42 people died, dozens of others were injured. Innocent, Leonard. Innocent people. Ill people."

Leonard extended one hand and wiped his tears away.

"What did you do?"

"I did the unspeakable. I enrolled in the Taliban army."

"You What??"

"I didn't know how else to stop him. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few – or my own needs. I thought that by doing that, he would stop."

"Did he?"

"He did but swore to find me and break every single bone in my body. In the meantime, I had found Simon, left to die in a ditch, shot by no one else but a soldier in my own team. I may have enrolled in the enemy’s army, but I was still an American and could not leave him there."

"You saved him?"

"I picked him and carried him for miles. I deserted. I was now a fugitive, wanted by several groups of highly dangerous people, among which – a search party from my father's side. I would later find out Simon was one of my Father's most trusted lieutenants and the one who had been ordered to find me and capture me, alive or... almost dead."

Leonard shook his head. This was horrific. The way life just slapped you – no, the way life punched you in the stomach...

"No wonder Scotty is torn between the adoration for your father and the love and gratitude for you."

"Yes," Spock said simply.

"When you were brought back to the US, how did you manage avoiding him?"

"I ran away - very soon after disembarking at the airport. I lived on the streets for a while, then settled here, where I thought I would lose my tracks. Simon found me, but never betrayed me. You know the rest."

"I have often read on the news about the Afghanistan war... but with the detachment of the man who knows he cannot do anything to help. Whereas you were so involved and passionate about the cause. I feel ashamed."

"Leonard, please understand one thing. I am not passionate about THIS cause. ANY war, ANYWHERE, triggers reactions that... anyway, let me not go down that path. It happened to be this war. But I would have enrolled in any other army to stop my Father from bringing about more destruction."

Leonard wrapped him in a warm embrace, and together they cried, they cried.


	11. The Lamb, Like A Dragon Speaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone of my readers has juridical expertise (US law) and notices anything wrongly-formulated in the "trial" parts of this chapter, kindly let me know.

It was overly quiet in the courtroom. All eyes were directed towards the man who had financed a war. A man who, in the public opinion, was guilty of atrocities far more severe than those which were actually unfolding on battlefields. Because people always needed to point their finger at someone. They needed someone to take the blame. Spock's father was that person.

Everyone knew that he had not been arrested and he was not being charged with attempted murder for the war atrocities, for crimes against humanity; no, he was here because he had raped and tortured a young man and because he had almost beaten to death his own son. And they had both pressed charges. 

Both victims would be heard, they would be questioned; the jury would then decide. Hopefully, they will find a solution to put that scum behind bars for a long, long time. No doubt, the two victims would help ensure that - because they hated him, right?

Spock wished Leonard and Jim were closer to him, but they were sitting a few rows back. He thought of him; he wished he could look at him for a moment; thinking of Leonard always gave him strength.

"...It will be your duty to decide whether or not the accused is guilty of the crime of attempted murder," the Judge was just stating. "It is important that you decide the case based on what the evidence shows. It would be wrong to decide the case because you dislike the accused and his past deeds. You must decide what really happened in this particular situation. It is my duty as the judge to instruct you on the law in this case. The law states that people are guilty of attempted murder when there is an intent to kill. Merely preparing to kill someone or planning to do so is not sufficient to satisfy the elements of attempted murder. The required direct act may consist of using a weapon against another, such as a gun or knife, and either inflicting serious wounds or firing a weapon into someone’s chest or head, areas most likely to result in death. It also includes soliciting and paying someone to kill another person..."

Spock looked at Scotty, who was near him and, apparently, he did not dare to look at the object of his adoration, sitting down in between two guards, and waiting for the questioning to begin.

Spock wanted to lean towards Scotty and ask him if he was feeling well; obviously he wasn't, so it would have been redundant. Scotty's cheeks were almost green.

Indeed, he had been throwing up all night and Leonard had tended to him as if he were his own son. Scotty was their friend; their brother. Spock could not stand to see him suffer so much.

And yet, the suffering was not over yet. This was its peak, the most atrocious moment, when Scotty had to face his own fears and free himself from the spell of the evillest of men. He was glad that Leonard was close-by; Scotty had gotten used to his touch; any other doctor would first face rejection from him, in case medical help would be needed. Spock really hoped they would avoid that. He hoped Scotty would go through this. 

Spock was not listening to the trial proceedings. Only fragments of phrases were reaching his mind. He was also not looking at his Father. Simply because he never wanted to see him - ever - again.

"Your Honour, Counsel, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this case is not as simple as the prosecuting attorney has tried to make you believe. Instead this is a case of a..."

Spock could not believe that there were defense attorneys who actually wanted to defend him. Who defends a person guilty of such heinous crimes? There was truly no honour left in the world...

He suddenly heard his own name. He was being called as a witness. He stood up and went to the witness stand.

"Raise your right hand," the Courtroom Deputy told him. "Do you swear or affirm that the testimony you are about to give is the truth?"

"I do," Spock answered breathing deeply.

He was next asked to give his name and spell it, as the procedures dictated, and to explain what he was doing for a living.

"What happened on August 19, 2018?"

"That day," Spock began - it wasn't easy at all. "That day, at about 11 in the morning, I have received a text message from my Father, saying <Come now. Simon and myself are waiting for you. It is time.> So I went to my Father's house. My friend, Simon Scott, here present, was missing and I feared the worst. So, I went to him."

"Why were you presuming that there was any danger threatening the aforementioned person, Mr. Simon Scott?"

"Because absolutely every time that my Father and my friend had been together, it resulted in my friend being abused, beaten or otherwise tortured and -"

"Why have you never reported such acts to the Police?"

Here they went, Spock thought. The questions which would eventually set Father free, because he always, always, always managed to get away with it.

"Simon did not want," Spock replied. 

"It would have been your duty to..."

Yes, Spock knew that. It would have been his duty to save Simon from him, but you can only save those who want to be saved. He patiently explained everything, enduring all the interruptions and cross-fires from the lawyers. He told them how he had been <welcomed> into his Father's house being beaten as soon as the door was opened; how he had been taken to see Simon in the basement where he had been kept throughout his ordeal; how he had been forced to watch Simon being beaten again though barely conscious and barely alive; how he himself had been repeatedly beaten and forced to record a message in which to admit that he had gone against his Father's will and underwent military actions that had undermined the United States of America's foreign policy... he went on and on and told them everything.

 

He knew they were listening carefully - because at some point there were no more questions. Everyone was silently listening to him. With pity and horror. 

For a short moment, he looked at his Father. Their eyes met but Spock saw no defiance in those proud, once cruel eyes; now there was... a sort-of determination which sent shivers down his spine. What was he planning now? He did not want to know. He only wanted to ensure that he spent as long as possible in prison, and for that they had to take into consideration much more crimes and not only the attempted murder charges. He truly hoped that the jury will not be... kind, merciful, because Father had never been either kind, or merciful.

"No further questions," he heard. "The witness is excused."

He went back to his place, as Scotty's name was called and he saw him weakly heading towards the witness stand.

"I do," he replied faintly when he was asked to promise that he would be telling the whole truth. God, Spock hoped that Scotty would survive, but he had doubts. He leaned towards his lawyer and discretely asked him to move the medical teams, together with Leonard, closer to the stand, but to his relief he saw Leonard coming closer. There seemed to be no objections - everyone could see how ill Scotty looked. 

Spock looked towards his Father, accusingly. It was because of him! All of this was because of him! But then...

Then he surprised a look that he had never seen, vulnerable and worried as he was also looking at Scotty. It was unusual. It was unlike him. He was never worried, because he was not capable of anything else but cruelty and ill-feelings and hatred. 

Spock looked at the members of the jury. He knew that at this point their sympathy was with him and Scotty and that they detested his Father. He knew that whatever Scotty would now say - it would only strengthen the chances for a solid sentence.

Spock did not know just how wrong he was.

"What happened on August 19, 2018?" they asked Scotty. Again the same question, but at least the prosecutor's tone was slightly kinder, seeing that the fragile young man was just barely holding it together. Spock just cursed internally - the procedure which allowed a victim and their abuser to be in the same room was not a good procedure at all. It was inhuman. 

"Nothing," came Scotty's shocking answer.

Spock exchanged a panicked look with Leonard and Jim. What was happening?"

"Mr. Scott, you were found unconscious in the basement, tied up and -"

"Yes, well, I had agreed to all that. It was not against my will. I had not eaten well that day and I had lost consciousness during our games."

"Has he not given a prior written deposition??" Leonard leaned towards Jim. What was just happening was very, very bad.

Jim shook his head. 

"No. He had just talked to the prosecutor and the defense lawyer. There are no written and signed documents... I cannot believe he is doing this!"

"The medical report states, Mr. Scott, that you had been beaten. The accused's son, here present, has just stated under oath that he had witnessed you being beaten and tortured."

"I am not sure what he saw. However, these games had happened many times before, we were playing, and they got a little out of hand. It can happen with BDSM. It is fine. I do not complain. And I do not want to make any accusations. It was cool. I had fun. None of this was without my specific consent. I would always do that again, if I had the chance."

Jim had never felt so helpless, so angry, so ashamed. Scotty was actually defending that scum, saying that he had no fault whatsoever! Down the drain went any hope to make him rot in prison... what was that idiot even thinking? Incredible! 

There was rumour in the courtroom and after a few attempts at restoring order, the judge called a recess.

The medical teams were prevented from approaching Scotty, due to the fact that a close friend was a part of the team; Scotty did not seem to want to talk to a doctor anyway. Spock could only see the prosecutor coming to whisper a few words to him; Scotty remained silent. He seemed to refuse any contact.

Spock got up and left. He could not endure this.

 

Leonard got home late that evening. He was very much upset and tired. He threw his medical bag, which he was carrying everywhere, on the floor near the door.

Spock came to him, he also looked exhausted. He leaned against the door-frame.

The two men looked into each other's eyes.

Leonard looked downwards.

Spock swallowed hard.

It was heart-wrenching.

It was worse than any torture.

"They set him free. He has to do 300 hours of community service for the attempt at murdering his own son, which was downgraded to severe beating, which apparently is a much smaller offense."

"Nothing else...?"

"Nothing else. There are no other charges against him."

Spock felt the need to dig a hole into the ground and hide in it. His worst nightmare was once again coming true. 

"Where is Simon?"

"I do not know, and I do not care. Not anymore."

"That is not true, Leonard. You are angry with him, and I am too, as you well know. But Simon is predictable. Simon has always, always, always done this - he has always found excuses for him. It is really nothing new. Forgive him."

"I cannot. I know I should be a better person, but I am not. This is my limit."

"AND mine. Come on, Leonard, come to the kitchen. I will not let this destroy us, nor tear us apart. I will fight for the right to live my life and be happy with you."

"How? How can we possibly continue to live in this... story of ours, when such atrocities take place? How can we continue to sleep peacefully at night, when such a man is free to... exert his evil will once more? Do you think Scotty will survive one more... <meeting> with him?"

"Right now, Leonard, all we have is... our story. I will make damn sure it has a happy ending. No matter what. My Father stays out of our lives. I trust Jim will protect us. And that no one else, except the police, knows where we live."

"Scotty will lead him right here!"

"If he lays one foot in this building, I am going to break every bone in his body. But no. Scotty will not do such a thing."

"I left the courtroom alone. I do not know where Scotty is."

"He is a grown-up man. If he wants to go back to his owner, because that is what my father is to him apparently, there is no way we can stop him. And we won't follow him around in order to catch him and lock him away. Scotty is not a mad man. He is simply..."

"Madly in love..." Leonard said sadly. "Do we have anything to eat?"

"Jim sent us a large pizza. He must have figured out we are incapable of cooking anything tonight."

"Thank goodness that Jim exists. Okay. Let me wash my hands and then we can... try and put ourselves back together, even though I feel very much like a broken glass."

"All broken things can be fixed, my love," Spock murmured. "Except my Father."

"Who knows... Who knows?" 


	12. Come To Me

Scotty knew quite well they were hating him with a passion right now. But he could not focus on their hatred. He had to focus on much more stringent things right now. His beloved, the owner of his heart had been set free. He had not gone to him out of his own free will; but his phone chirped one hour later, and with a heart that was threatening to jump out of his chest, he read it:

<Would you come to me? I am at my old house.>

Of course he would come to him. This is what he was doing best in life. Going to him.

Scotty hadn't gone home when the trial ended, and to be completely honest he had also rather brutally pushed Jim away, making sure to remain in plain sight, to speak to the reporters if they so wished - anything to prevent some "thoughtful" friends from dragging him away - something which he wanted to avoid at all costs. 

He had something to do and he was going to do it.

<I am on my way.>

However, it did not escape him that this time around, the request was kindly and thoughtfully formulated - he had never been addressed as such; no, HE was just conveying orders, Come to me, Do this, Do that. And he would always do as asked, even so. 

Because that was what it meant to forever give your heart - even though the person receiving it did not deserve such a treasure. Or did he?

He took a cab and went inside the property. 

There was no guardian at the gate. 

He knocked, taking a deep breath. His life may very well end today, and he did not care in the least. 

"Hello, Scotty," He said opening the door and looking at him with unhidden affection and kindness.

"Hi."

"Come on in," he murmured, opening the door and stepping aside so the young man could enter. "Go and wash your hands first, then come to the kitchen. I was unable to do any shopping before you got here, but we have some bread, butter and yellow cheese, and I am making a good ginger tea.

Scotty blinked a few times. He was... feeding him? It had never happened before.

But - obedient as ever - he did as told. He washed his hands and came to the kitchen.

"What are you doing, Master?" he asked, confused.

The older man lifted his eyes to look at him.

"You should no longer call me that."

"I am calling you how I want. So, what are you doing?"

"Sandwiches and tea. Sit down. If you insist on calling me that, you may as well obey my orders."

Scotty sat down on a chair; he was more and more confused, and he had no idea what was going to happen to him. But instead of something really painful and humiliating, he was given a sandwich and a cup of tea.

"Eat, my love. You haven't eaten in days."

Scotty's eyes watered. He had never been called that. 

He ate, because this was what he had been asked to do, and also because he was terribly hungry, he had been feeling weak and he had survived out of Leonard's mercy who, at times, would give him some energy bars and some pills and Oshee Water. Scotty ate, looking at Him, at his beautiful hands, at his sad, sorrowful eyes.

"What are you going to do to me?" he asked.

"Does it matter?"

"It does not. It never did, as you very well know. Except, I will not lead you to your son."

"I do not intend to disturb my son ever again, be at peace. To answer your question in a way you would understand: I will do with you - not to you - because there is a difference there - all that I want. To give you an answer you will not understand right now, I will work with you to fix everything I have ruined. To give your mind a little peace, you will cuddle on the sofa in the living room and rest. You need to sleep. You will also receive a gun, and at the first sign of unhonourable treatment on my behalf, you may fire. Last but not least, your phone must have charged. Go outside and call my son and let him know you are fine, and he may at any moment check on you however he sees fit. Let him not uselessly worry."

"Right, um... okay."

"Then go make that call while I wash the dishes."

"You've never washed the dishes in your life."

"Nor have I made sandwiches and tea, or the bed for that matter. But there is a time for everything."

 

Scotty got up and went outside to make that phone-call. It was not at all easy but he felt he had to make it, because he knew for certain that despite the fact of being upset, his friends were actually worried for him.

He waited for Spock to pick-up. He knew that Leonard was probably more understanding and more forgiving, but the fact was that he needed to talk to Spock, no matter how hard it was. 

"Simon!" he snapped at him.

"I'd rather you called me Scotty. Simon is a thing of the past."

"Whatever. What the hell, man? And why do you even call me?"

Scotty was taken aback by such a violent reaction.

"I suppose you could say that I wanted to tell you I was okay."

"Really! Is that supposed to interest me?"

"I do not know. I guess not. Okay then... bye."

He ended the call but immediately after, Spock called back.

"Don't you dare hang up on me!"

"You are very hard to understand. You said you did not care about how I was."

"And I don't! Why the hell did you lie? Do you have ANY IDEA..."

"...what have I done? What the consequences of my actions actually are? This is pretty much what you want to ask, me, yes?"

"Yes. Do you?"

"Much more than you think. But to reassure you and Leonard - there will be no consequences for you. Everything is just fine, so relax, take a deep breath. Nobody wants to barge in looking for you and Leonard and nobody wants to harm you anymore. It is over."

"What is over, except all our lives?"

"Live on and you will see that your lives are perfectly okay. Nothing will ever disturb you ever again."

There was a momentary, eerie silence at the other end.

"Scotty, where are you?" Spock asked.

"I am where I belong. You know very well. Please do not save me. I do not need to be saved."

"Scotty..."

"Spock. Let me be. Please."

"Very well. What can I say? It is not as if you ever listen to me! It is not as if you'd ever do what I ask, so I will not bother. If you want to convince me, call again tomorrow morning, a video-call this time. I want to see how you look like and if you are going to say the same things as you say this evening."

"Very well."

Another short, confused silence.

"Are you alright, Scotty?"

"Yes, Spock. This time, I really am. He asked me himself to come and call you, to tell you where I am and that I am well. He is a different person. I promise."

"Unless this is just another trick."

"It is not. You'll see. Give my regards to Leonard and I hope he will be able to forgive me. 

"I will tell him. Scotty..."

"Yes."

"No matter what... be careful. Alright?"

"Alright. I promise."

 

Spock ended the call and Scotty placed the phone back in his pocket. He went back inside the house, it was slightly cold outside, and he was so tired that the sensation of coldness was much enhanced. He felt something warm around him - the arms of the one whom he loved, wrapping a sweater around his shoulders. It was the sweetest and most wonderful feeling because from these hands he had never received anything kind or tender or sweet.

"Thank you, Master," he murmured.

"Go to the sofa and rest. I brought you a pillow and a blanket and I made the fire. It should be cosy. Also, there is a gun under your pillow, in case you want to shoot me.”

"I do not want to - gosh! How do you think -"

"Just keep it there. You have been through a lot of trauma, and I was the only one responsible. So, if you want to shoot me, you have all the right to it."

"But I wanna sleep with you in bed."

"No, Scotty. You are not going to be in that bed ever again."

Scotty did as told, because he would always obey him – to some extent, at least. So he went and cuddled on the couch, feeling confused and hopeful, and also lonely and miserable. He had done what he had thought was right. There had been such darkness in Him – could that darkness dissipate, or at least – start to? What made darkness go away?

“I brought you a glass of water in case you are thirsty during the night. And a few pieces of chocolate. I am told your blood-sugar is typically very low.”

“Who told you that?” Scotty asked, sitting up and gazing at him.

“Leonard messaged me a bunch of instructions.”

“Really? Out of his own initiative?”

“Uh, no. I might have texted him first.”

Scotty smiled. This man may have been a monster, but… he no longer seemed to be that.

“Let me see the messages?”

The phone was passed to him and Scotty felt shivers for a moment. He simply worshiped any object that had been touched by him. Others may call him pathetic; but his love had no boundaries. He scrolled through the phone.

<Dr. Cain, my apologies for the late message. Could I know if Scotty follows any medical treatment? Does he take any medicine I should be aware of? Sarek.>

<Why he hell do you pretend to care?? Send him home if you do.>

<Scotty is free to come to you whenever he desires. However, for the moment he wishes to stay here and he is in no danger. Could you answer my previous question?>

Scotty rolled his eyes as he was scrolling through the exchange of texts.

“You sure can be polite.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Sarek said with an apologetic smile.

<I do not have to do anything so fuck off!> it was Leonard’s next reply.

<Doctor, my patience is wearing thin. His medical instructions, or I will held you accountable if he feels sick. And you do not want that.>

“Oh, okay,” Scotty commented with a smile. “That sounds more like you.”

<Keep chocolate and water at hand. I will send his medical file on his e-mail address and if he wants, he can show it to you. Fuck you, Sarek. You don’t deserve that nickname. I wish I called you Nero!>

Scotty shook his head.

“They do hate you.”

“For the good reasons. So, who is Nero? Does he refer to the Roman emperor?”

“Uh, no. He refers to a villain from Star Trek, responsible for… anyway. This is not the moment to tell you about that. He called you Sarek, too late to change it now, and it seems the nickname does start to brush on you. Okay, so take a sip of water from my glass,” Scotty requested.

“Do you think I would poison you?” Sarek asked sadly, but he did drink from the glass, to shatter his doubts away. Scotty had all the reasons in the world to doubt his honesty and intentions.

Scotty took the glass from his hand and drank too, touching it with his lips in the same place.

“If touching things that you touched is the closest I can be to you as possible, I am not going waste the opportunity.

It broke Sarek’s heart to hear that statement.

He had never kissed him. He had only physically abused him, times and times again, in painful and humiliating ways. But he had never kissed him. And that was what Scotty had… just asked; he hadn’t asked for a poison-test. He just wanted to touch the same glass with his lips.

He took the glass from his hand and placed it aside on the table.

He extended one hand and removed a lock of hair from over his forehead.

He leaned over him and kissed him softly, gently, a butterfly touching a flower.

There was nothing else that existed, nor time or pain or memories. Just them, the tears, that perfect moment of happiness and hope.

They held on to each other tight, and tears continued to flow.


	13. Change

"How was he?" Leonard asked worriedly.

"He was an idiot," Spock replied, upset, throwing the phone on the table carelessly. "A bloody idiot, as always."

Leonard did not say anything for a while, reflecting on everything that had happened. After a moment or two, he got up and went to the kitchen, where he made hot chocolate. Upon returning to the living-room, he found Spock still pensive and upset. He handed him a mug and sat down beside him.

"I think we should try and look at things from Scotty's perspective as well, you know?"

"Like, we should try to imagine how it would be like to betray your friends and just go to the biggest villain in the whole world and move in with him as if nothing happened, right? Sorry, I cannot imagine that."

"Do you really think that your father is the biggest villain in existence? You seem to grant him the same faults as people grant to Hitler or Stalin."

"He is responsible for the useless loss of countless innocent human lives. Of course he is no better than Stalin or Hitler."

"Spock. You are allowing yourself to be driven by pure hatred for him. It is true that he has done abominable things. But contrary to other big villains of history who were equally responsible for slaughters and not punished for them, in your father's case I do detect a faint willingness to change."

"Leonard, save this speech for tomorrow morning when you'll have to perform CPR on Scotty."

"I do not think it will happen. You see, your father messaged me to request... to request Scotty's medical file."

"He What?" Spock exclaimed.

"Here, take a look and see for yourself," Leonard said handing him his mobile phone.

Spock spent a few moments scrolling through the messages. 

"Unbelievable... and you sent him the file?"

"I do not disclose medical information to persons who are not legally entitled to receive it; I sent it to Scotty's e-mail, though. If Scotty decides so, he can share the information. If not, then... not. Anyway, your father has never shown any concern towards Scotty until now."

"It may be a devious strategy to distract our attention. He is capable of any known type of manipulation, Leonard!"

"You may be right, and he IS indeed capable of that. But let us just hope... that he shows genuine care."

"You are naive."

"And you are a bit hurtful towards me. You must understand that this is how I am. I give people a second, third, hundredth chance. Even to the worst of people. Because I believe that with the right motivation, anyone can chance."

"Even him?"

"Even the devil himself."

Spock remained silent for a few moments. He got up and went to wash his face, he had to pull himself together, he was talking rudely to Leonard and he didn't deserve that. He returned to him and took his hand.

"Strange how we simply cannot manage to have our peace. To just enjoy our love, our relationship, to live our life. Father always... spoils it, and Scotty always messes everything up and I just cannot focus on what is important for ME. I am sorry. Please forgive me for having snapped at you. You are the last person in the world to deserve such a thing."

Leonard held his hand into his. 

"I can see very well how much even the thought of him - of them, in fact - upsets you, Spock. But I am a firm believer that no darkness lasts forever. Especially when there is a light nearby - and Scotty IS that light. Why do you think Scotty said those things at the trial?"

"To get him out of prison! He lied, saying that..."

"No, Spock. Scotty hasn't lied. There was never an attempt at murder in his case because, you see, Scotty has always let him do whatever he wanted to him. And finally, it seemed that your father saw that - and when he saw that, he... woke up."

Spock looked into Leonard's eyes, trying to grasp a meaning that still eluded him.

"Change... is possible? You really think so?"

"Yes. And now I would like to suggest to you that you stopped thinking of him. We will look after Scotty if and when he comes to us - and you know that if he is injured, he always comes to us. He has done so every time. Stop worrying. If Scotty needs us, he will come. If not, we will let him be. He is where he wants to be, he is a free man, with a free will and he has the right to make his own choices."

Spock sighed deeply.

"You are right. I obsess over them so much, that I fail to enjoy the beautiful, splendid man who granted me the honour of standing by me, even though I am not sure I deserve it."

"There is a way to deserve it, you know?" Leonard smiled.

"What way?"

"Make me breakfast in bed?"

Spock smiled too, he got up and pulled him along.

"You are saying very wise things, my Leonard."

 

Scotty woke up early. He had been covered with a fluffy blanket and had had a fairly comfortable sleep. His feet were resting... were resting on Sarek's legs, who was sitting down at the other side of the couch, working on something on his laptop. 

He had never slept near him.

"Wh-what are you doing there?"

Sarek turned his head towards him and smiled.

"Good morning. You are up early."

"Yes... Hi. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to look at you while you slept. I... we have never..."

"...slept together, I know."

"I am so sorry, Scotty."

However, Scotty was not ready to deal with the _Sorry_ part. He just wanted to enjoy the little wonders that kept happening. He sat up and cuddled closer to him - something that, again, had not happened.

"What doin'?" he asked, sweetly.

"I was trying to put together a list of things I need to fix."

"Like... the dishwasher?"

Sarek smiled, and for some reason - that beautiful, sincere smile took Scotty's breath away. They remained gazing into each other's eyes, at a loss of words, hoping, hoping... that darkness would continue to dissipate. 

"I was kiddin'. I'll fix the damn dishwasher. I'm not an engineer for nothin'."

"I don't even know what you like to do, what you are good at."

"I am an engineer," Scotty shrugged. "A computer engineer, to be more precise. I fix just about anythin' however."

"Like for example my life," Sarek murmured. "Do you want to look at the list?"

"Sure," Scotty said leaning over to be able to see the computer screen. "Um, stop the Afghanistan war? How exactly are you going to accomplish that?"

"There are several problems which need immediate solving, concerning this. I will start with the one who affects the most people - the supply of guns to our teams deployed there. I will stop supplying them."

"You were the main source of weapons?"

"I was one of the main sources of weapons and especially of chemical weapons. A confrontation is not always won through firing bullets at the enemy; one can poison the waters, make sure the fields are altered... poison the air, unleash deadly diseases… there are several possibilities. So, I will no longer supply weapons of any kind."

"The Government may force you. They may threaten to put you back in prison or something. They always have means to convince rich people to do whatever they want."

"I will publicly donate all my fortune to the Red Cross."

Scotty looked at him perplexedly. 

"You will?"

"I will. I have already contacted one of their representatives, he will come see us this afternoon to make the necessary arrangements. I have also contacted the press. It is repugnant to do this in front of the cameras, but this is the only way I can think of, to convince the Government that my money is gone."

"Wow. Um, I mean but... what about your... family?"

"My son and his mate aren't ever going to receive anything from me. However, this house will be his, and he is free to give it any destination he wants, I presume he won't want to keep it as he has too bad memories here; he can sell it, or whatever."

"And what will YOU do, where will you live? What will you live of?"

"I will get a job."

"WHAT? A job?"

"You find me incapable of that, do you?"

"Just a bit. Anyway. I earn enough."

It was Sarek's turn to look at him perplexedly.

"You wish to... stay with me in all conditions?"

Scotty wrapped his fragile hands around his arm with a sweet, shy gesture. 

"I wish to stay with you in all conditions. I have never had any other wish. If they were to put you in jail, I guess I would have slept in front of the prison."

Sarek held him to his chest, tenderly, feeling his own heart break into a thousand pieces once more. How was it possible to be loved like that - and to have done absolutely nothing to deserve it?

"About the Afghanistan war, there is another thing to be discussed, my beloved," he said softly. "Yes, I called you my beloved, not by mistake. Now listen, please. You know how my son had enrolled into the Taliban army to stop me from deploying weapons and thus generating attacks in certain regions - a plan which worked. But then, my son defected. Now as you may know, you don't just defect from that army. Once you do it, you are seen as a traitor and hunted down for the supreme punishment. My son is in danger."

"I know; I have always known that. But he is generally cautious."

"Changing his identity and moving somewhere else, where he can be guarded and protected, is of extreme importance. I mean, Spock is a cute name, but I am unsure if..."

"It is a perfect name and it restructured his identity. It has made him brave and stronger and... logical. It made him assume responsibility for his own life. A name changes you."

"It did change me," Sarek murmured. "In fact, YOU changed me."

"Can we really change other people? My Mom always used to say that it is impossible to change someone."

"I believe that love has this ability. It is not only the fact that you love me to this extent; it is also the fact that Leonard loves my son equally strongly. Leonard changed him too. And this little game of names... I guess it did the rest."

Scotty burrowed his face onto his chest. He so wanted to just… be absorbed by him, to be one with him; he adored and worshiped him – what he felt was beyond, beyond love, if such a thing was even possible.

Sarek lifted his chin with one finger, to see his eyes.

“Master,” Scotty murmured.

Sarek closed his eyes for a second.

“I asked you to call me that when I used to just… mock at you, when I used your body for my pleasure, when I was doing all those terrible and painful things to you. How, how can you still call me that? Or are you doing it to punish me, as a way of remembering me that I was a monster and a bastard?”

“I never called you _Master_ because it turned you on. I did it because that was what you have always been for me, my owner. To this day it reflects reality.”

“I _raped_ you.”

“No. You have never done to me anything I did not consent to. You have always had my permission.”

“Oh, stop talking!” Sarek said with despair and closed the distance between them, kissing him again. There was despair in that kiss; there was longing, and there was – hidden and shy and fearful – love, pure like the beginning of time.


	14. The Most Important Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of a terrorist attack (no victims).

When someone shot at their window and the glass broke, Spock felt as if his own heart would jump out of his chest. It was still dark outside, the perfect time to kill. He threw himself over Leonard, falling on the other side of the bed, shielding him with his own body. They held onto each other tight, as the shooting continued.

“What is going on??” Leonard gasped.

“Someone is trying to finish us…”

“Your dad?”

“Who the hell else…” Spock said bitterly, extending one hand towards the night-stand in order to pick the phone. “I don’t suppose you have a gun?!”

“I am a doctor, damn it! I do not do _guns_!”

A loud explosion made the building shake as if during an earthquake. Objects fell on the floor and Leonard felt he was going to suffocate because of the smoke and dust.

“He could have found a subtler way of killing us!” Leonard exclaimed. “This is a damn war-scene, what is he trying to do, slaughter us and take half of the street down in the process? Dear God!”

“A war-scene…” Spock murmured, as the means and tools were indeed familiar to him, triggering memories which he had wanted to bury deep and to forget for the rest of his life. “This is not my father wanting to kill me. This is… someone else.”

“I love you, Spock. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. It is a good moment to know this, because we are not getting out of here alive.”

Spock looked throughout the room with despair. The window had broken into a million pieces; the next stage would be throwing a grenade inside. They had already attempted that, Spock could tell, by that terrible shake; they were most likely calculating the second attempt. There was no way they could survive this, he knew, he knew.

“I am so sorry, Leonard, so sorry. I have completely destroyed you. I love you, I love you.”

But suddenly, the air in the room changed. Someone opened the door, carrying a large weapon and for a moment Spock thought that one of the firing squad outside had barged in to finish them; then he realized it wasn’t their style. They would decapitate or shoot people in public whenever possible, to make the occasion serve as a lesson; whenever that was not possible, they would blow entire buildings up in order to eliminate one person. This was how they operated.

The silhouette carrying the gun leaned against a wall and proceeded to fire at those outside through the shattered window.

“S… Simon?!” Spock murmured.

“Stay down,” Scotty ordered. This was a battlefield; he would deal with the situation according to the laws of battlefields – which meant – no laws except those which dictated survival. “There’s a blanket on the bed, pull it over yourselves and stay there. Shield Leonard.”

Spock did as he was told; their chances of survival had just increased by a few percent. If there was any chance of getting out of there alive, he would take that chance.

“Police?” he murmured, whilst covering himself and Leonard with the blanket.

“Yeah, right,” Scotty murmured. “Police and the Islamic State.” He continued to fire, so as not to leave them any chance of actually throwing a grenade in. “Now!” he said on a loud voice.

Another person entered the room and Scotty made sure he was exactly between him and the window, nobody could harm those behind him except by taking him down first – and that was not going to happen. Not while he was still breathing.

That person rushed to Leonard and Spock and helped them up.

Spock’s eyes widened in shock.

“Fath- Father??”

“Yes, get up, Son. Come on, Leonard. We are going up on the roof.”

“You have – come? To help?”

“Now is not a good time for this,” he snapped at them and then he just picked both of them in one strong hold and pulled them out of the room. “Scotty!” he then called. He was not leaving his most beloved behind.

“Grenade! Go!” he said rushing after them and pushing them upwards on the stairs, while the room behind them was blowing up with a terrible sound. It was the rush of adrenaline, he pure fear of death that was making them still function and not give in to the fear; added to that, the will of each of them to see their loved one safe, to see him… again.

“What are we going to do on the roof?” Spock managed to say while trying not to choke with smoke and dragging Leonard along up on the stairs.

“I brought a helicopter. They have taken the entire street,” Sarek said, opening the service door to the roof terrace and pushing them through it. Indeed, there was a helicopter there; Scotty made sure no one was rushing up the stairs after them and waited until Sarek, Spock and Leonard were safe inside; then he ran after hem and got on the pilot’s chair, it was fortunate he had taken his military training seriously and knew how to fire guns, how to fly helicopters and how to kick and fight to stay alive. Whatever it took.

As the helicopter was lifting, Leonard looked towards their street: a large black truck, armed men dressed in military clothes and with black masks over their faces; the first floor of their building was burning; there was ample destruction; at the two ends of the street, another two trucks were blocking the access. The police forces were firing at them; they were being fired at.

“All this destruction… for what? Who? Why?”

“For me,” Spock said sorrowfully. “They are Taliban soldiers. They will stop at nothing until I am dead.”

Leonard shivered. Of course; Spock had told him the story of his desertion from the Taliban army. It was obvious that one day they would hunt him down for betrayal; but Leonard hoped that those kids of things just did not happen in the United States, that they were safe; it seemed like there was no safe place from the destruction that could be brought about by those driven by extremism.

Scotty landed on the designated helicopter place on Sarek’s property.

“Is everyone safe? Anybody hurt?”

“I haven’t picked my medical bag,” Leonard realized panicking. If any of them was hurt, how would he look after them?

“Do not worry, doctor, I have everything you need in the house,” Sarek said, trying to help his son get out of the helicopter, offering him one hand.

But Spock did not want to take it. He just jumped down and helped Leonard descend as well, placing one arm around his shoulders to make him keep his head down as the blades were still spinning.

Sarek looked downwards. It was understandable, his son’s rejection. But he was keen on fixing things and on not asking what was not possible to be given.

“Will you… come inside, Son, Leonard?” he asked them nonetheless. “You will be safe here.”

“Are there guards at the main entrance?”

“The property is heavily guarded. I have personally selected the people,” Scotty said, knowing that Spock would trust him on that.

“How do I know they won’t sell us to the enemy?”

“I have selected people who would protect the one I love,” Scotty said. “You can be sure that they will not let anyone pass by those gates.”

“And via air?”

“Nah. Any chopper closing in on us will be mercilessly… dealt with.”

Scotty’s confidence reassured Spock. He took Leonard’s arm and followed Scotty inside the house. Sarek was the last to come, following them in a slower pace as if no wanting to disturb them with his… disgusting presence. He knew he had to make amends towards his son; and he also knew it will take him a lot, a lot of effort and time – but that it was well worth it.

Scotty closed the door behind all of them and connected a complicated alarm system. For sure no one was going past that door without them noticing.

Spock stopped near the door of the living-room. He had vivid, horrifying memories of this place.

“Come on, buddy,” Scotty told him softly. “He’s not the same man as before. Think of your mate. Think of Leonard. He will be safe here.”

Spock looked into his eyes, trying to determine if all this was, by any chance, a very devious plan laid out to deceive him and Leonard… but in spite of everything, he knew that Scotty had never meant to ham him or Leonard, and that his intentions were good even if he loved… the wrong person.

“There’s a guest room on the first floor; do you want to camp there with Leonard?”

“Yes.”

“Here; a gun,” Scotty said handing him the weapon which he had kept under his pillow. Anyone comes through the door and you do not want them there, just fire.”

Spock took it decidedly. He would do whatever it took to keep Leonard and himself safe.

“You also need food. Will you believe me that it is not poisoned?”

“Forgive me if I doubt that,” Spock said bitterly.

“Sealed sandwiches and bottled water?”

“That will do,” Spock replied. His eyes were dark, and he still did not quite believe they were safe here. Yes, Father had come for them… but he was a devious, not-to-be trusted man.

 

Scotty made another tour of the house and secured all windows and doors. They were as safe as they could be. Suddenly, warm, powerful arms wrapped around his waist from behind. He almost stopped breathing… he still could not believe that he was being touched with tenderness, with… affection. Every touch coming from him was like a dream.

“Come now. You have done enough for the day.”

Scotty placed his hands on Sarek’s hands; one hour ago, he had fired a gun furiously; now he was melting in an embrace that he wanted to last forever.

“You need to eat something. Let’s go.”

Scotty followed him without much fuss. Sarek had brought a few sandwiches and tea to the living room, having placed them on the coffee table. They ate together, and Scotty still could not believe they were doing that; they were sitting down on the couch, as close to each other as possible; Scotty just wanted to glue himself to him.

“Master.”

“Mmm?” Sarek murmured.

Scotty smiled. That dialogue, so simple, filled his heart with joy.

Sarek turned his head and looked at him.

“Ask what you want,” he told him.

“And you will grant it to me?” Scotty wanted to know.

“If it is reasonable.”

“It is, therefore I want you to grant it to me.”

“Very well. What is it?”

“To sleep with you in bed.”

“Scotty…”

“No! No _Scotty_. I want to sleep with you in bed.”

“Very well, stand up so I can recline the couch, we won’t fit.”

“What, here? You want us to sleep here?”

“You said you wanted to sleep with me in bed. You did not say which bed. I am making the rest of the rules.”

“Okay, cool, but why here?”

“Because sleeping on plain sight of everyone would reassure them all – and you as well – that I do not plan on doing any horrible things to you.”

“You have never done horrible things to me.”

“You are very –“

“…delusional? Maybe. Still, it is you I want, and I will not want anyone else until you send me away, which will also be the day I die.”

“You idiot,” Sarek said on the same tone on which he would have said _my love_. “Come here already.” He had finished reclining the couch and placed blankets and pillows on it.

Scotty climbed near him, his heart pounding.

“Why do you tolerate me? Why do you… indulge me? Do I have any chance?” Scotty murmured, looking at him.

Sarek wrapped one arm around his waist and pulled him closer, covering both of them with the blanket. He kissed his lips a few times, as if wanting to reassure him.

“Any chance to… what?” he asked calmly. He felt Scotty falling apart in his arms, almost unable to move because of emotion.

“To your heart.”

“Yes,” he replied. It was a simple, clear and honest answer. That _yes_ was, however, the most important word he had ever uttered in his entire life.


	15. A Hand To Hold

Spock woke up all alert, confused, momentarily not knowing where he was. He was in a foreign room, his Leonard was in danger, he had to... he had to... he did not know what he had to do. He screamed.

He screamed again.

Soft, reassuring arms wrapped around him and words murmured by a familiar, dear voice were reaching his consciousness.

"Spock. Spock. Spock. It is fine. I am here, my beloved, it is fine, we are safe..." Leonard kept chanting. 

Spock's agitated consciousness was still making him hyperventilate and want to crawl out of his own skin.

"Look at me, look at me..." Leonard said, touching his phone on the nightstand, the screen would give a bit of light and Spock could see that there was no one in the room but them. And that there was no danger.

Spock took a few breaths more.

"S-sorry. Where - where are we?"

"Don't you remember? We were attacked back at our apartment. There was an explosion. Your Father and Scotty came to rescue us."

"It's a trap, no, NO!!! We must get out of here!!!" Spock screamed again.

"No, baby, it is fine..." Leonard murmured again. He could recognize the symptoms of post-traumatic stress-disorder and it was just heart-breaking. "He is downstairs with Scotty, resting. He has not attacked us. He has actually saved us from a crumbling building. He came for us when we needed him the most."

"It is a trap. A trick. He is trying to destroy us."

"My love, you are destroying yourself. Stop. Look at me and focus on me only, and take deep breaths. You will be fine.  We are together; nothing separated us so far; what makes you think something will eventually manage to?"

Spock managed to calm himself for a moment.

"Because... because I know him," he murmured. He always seeks to bring us harm."

"No, son," Sarek spoke from the door. He had heard the noise and the yelling, it would have been impossible not to, and had come to them in a moment. He did not dare to come in, because he could very well understand that he was not welcome.

Spock turned his head towards him, momentarily rendered speechless by the calm, warm tone.

"May I come in?" Sarek asked, remaining in the doorway.

"No," Spock said immediately. "Stay as far as... come in," he then said, his breathing accelerating. "Where is Simon? I want to see him at once."

"I am here, on the hallway," the younger man answered.

They both came in, and Sarek came closer to Spock.

Instinctively, Spock tried to shield Leonard.

Sarek lifted his hands in surrender.

"I am not here to harm your mate or yourself, son," Sarek spoke.

"Why are you here?"

"You were... screaming."

Spock looked at Leonard for confirmation, who merely nodded gravely. Gosh, was he actually screaming? he asked himself, embarrassed.  The memories of how they had been saved by Sarek and Scotty, the helicopter journey, everything came back to him. 

Sarek came closer, his own heart breaking again when seeing the way Spock would back-up as if being suddenly attacked. He sat on the bed, however, and waited for Spock's breathing to normalize a bit.

"My son... you may see me as a monster and I was one. But if I had become that, it was only because I could not deal with the loss of those whom I loved, your mother, and then you. I did not know how to deal with the pain, but who does, ever? Do you? Yes, I am not proud of my actions at all. They have brought me to a point where I almost do not know how to fix anything anymore. But I will keep trying! And you know why?"

Spock looked at him with less fear and more curiosity.

"Why?"

"Because I no longer want to lose those whom I love. I no longer want to push them away from me. You, your mate and Scotty, because this is how he wants me to call him now. I was blessed - and lucky enough - to have one soul who loved be despite everything - look at him," he said pulling Scotty near him. "He loved me when I was a horrible, subhuman being. He loved me when there was nothing at all to be loved. And it... changed me."

"How can I be sure?" Spock murmured.

"You cannot. But you can observe and perhaps you can let me try and show you. Perhaps you can help me make things right."

Spock remained silent, holding Leonard's hand harder.

"Now why don't we all go to the kitchen?" Sarek suggested. "I will make hot cocoa and bread and butter."

Spock looked at him attentively, and his eyes filled with tears of nostalgia. It was what they used to eat on Sunday mornings, when he was a young boy and life was better, simpler, clearer and less dirty.

"I would love that," he murmured.

They all got up, Spock wrapped himself in a bath robe because he was always cold, and followed his father and Scotty to the kitchen. Sarek made sure to turn on the lights, as if wanted to tell them that he had nothing to hide and that no harm would come their way. He was the first to come to the kitchen and when everyone sat down, he himself proceeded to prepare hot cocoa and sandwiches. He had never been a good father, he thought. But he was trying now. He was trying.

"When you said you wanted to make things right, what did you mean? There are so many things that are wrong, that I do not even know where you could possibly begin from."

"Scotty - here present," Sarek said with obvious pride - "is a formidable action-plan maker. He put a plan on paper and I am following it to the letter."

"What are some elements on this plan?" Spock wanted to know.

"For example, use the money I invested on weapons for good purpose that will make a change in battlefields. I have donated 95% of my fortune to the Red Cross, conditioning them to operate in Afghanistan."

"You What?" Spock asked, shocked as never in his life. "How can we still afford this place?"

"We still can, but not for long. This is where the number two item on the list comes forth. Are you ready to hear it?"

"I don't think I am, but say it anyway."

"Faking your death, so that the Taliban army stopped hunting you down and killing other innocent people in the process; then moving to another city, another country perhaps. Far from here."

"I must say..." Spock said thoughtfully, "that you do have solid and logical plans. However, relocation is expensive; how will we live? Out of what?"

"I am an engineer, people. I make money," Scotty said not without a trace of pride in his voice.

"Okay, another dilemma: how will we credibly fake my death?"

"The police-officer you befriended should be able to do that. I have summoned him here at 10 AM in the morning, to discuss how exactly to 'kill you' more credibly."

"You mean you convinced Jim to help?"

"I have also convinced him to come along."

"Jim? With us?"

"Yes. He said that we are not capable to look after ourselves and that he must come along to ensure we are not getting into any more trouble, which is nice, thoughtful, endearing and useful."

Spock was mindlessly playing with the teaspoon. 

"Therefore, so far you think of donating all your money, or almost all of them, and then you will help fake my death and we will all move somewhere else, in another... state?"

"I am actually thinking of changing the continent," Sarek replied. "It will be much safer for you."

"What do you have in mind.... Australia?"

"Perhaps. I was thinking Europe. There are many small countries which have been spared the horrors of attacks, small oases of peace. Among these countries, several would be appropriate for Leonard to continue his work as a doctor."

Spock lifted his eyes from the cup in which he was gazing.

"You've also thought of... Leonard's career?"

"I tried to. I tried to take into consideration the languages he speaks, namely French and German."

"How do you even know that?" Spock asked, shocked.

"I have studied his Curriculum Vitae which is posted on the hospital's website, it is a public document."

"I didn't think anyone would look that up, really," Leonard said embarrassed all of a sudden, because it was a really old CV, he had never known how to make those look good.

"I look up everything which interests me," Sarek said calmly.

"I don't know if I should be worried or flattered..." the sarcastic answer came. 

They all remained quiet for a little moment, contemplating the information, the ideas which had been changed. Their lives were about to change, but their story would continue, and they all felt... it was important.

"So what do you say... Spock?" Sarek said, calling his son thus for the first time ever, because he knew that the nickname was important to him, it meant so much more than a new identity. At the same time, he extended one hand onto the table, towards him; he was not hoping to meet his son's hand; it would have been too much, too soon. 

Spock lifted his head and looked at Leonard, at Scotty; they were his family. He looked at the older man across the table. He was doing so much to just... make things right.

Perhaps it was time to help.

Slowly, but without hesitation, he reached with his own hand towards that which had been extended.

He took his father's hand.


	16. How I Started Living In A Story

* * *

“I swear that if we move one more time, I am going to get a hernia and Leonard will have to admit me to the hospital and I will be the absolute worst patient in the world,” Jim complained whilst bringing the last of the boxes up into the apartment.

It was a spacious apartment in an old building in East London, a place they had ultimately chosen because Scotty had found good work at the local IBM branch and Leonard had managed a transfer to Royal London Hospital.

“I have assigned the three available rooms in the following logical manner,” Spock stated; he was in the middle of the small hallway which was filled with boxes and he looked like an orchestra conductor. “Me and Leonard…”

“How courteous that you start with yourself!” Scotty laughed.

“My apologies, you are absolutely right. Leonard and I,” he corrected himself with a smile, “shall take the back room to the left. It is the smallest one, because I like tiny things, so I don’t mind lack of space that much.”

“Hold on a second, Spock,” Sarek spoke. “First of all, you say you like tiny things, but I see you chose a mate with a big heart, so do not be modest. Second, in that room it will be impossible to integrate all your recording gear.”

“What… recording gear?” Spock asked in amazement because he wouldn’t have even imagined it to be possible for his music tools to be transported for such a distance.

“What do you think it is in the boxes 1-5?” Sarek smiled.

“Uh… dunno?? Clothes?”

Sarek handed him a knife, elegantly, taking pleasure in seeing how Spock rushed to cut the tape which kept the first of the boxes closed.

“BNC and RCA cables!!!” Spock exclaimed. “Headphones, microphones, recording tools!”

They were all smiling and exchanging knowing looks, seeing how happy he looked, radiant and just wanting to unpack everything at once.

“In these three large boxes which almost gave Jim a hernia, you will find the parts for a Studio RTA Producer Station that you will have to put together. So, let me reassign the rooms, son, since none of these will fit in the room you chose.”

“Mhm,” Spock murmured, busy to open the other boxes and feeling like a child on Christmas day.

“Any of you has anything against me taking charge of this?” Sarek asked, looking at each of them individually. It was somehow understood that if he took charge of the room distribution, he would naturally take charge of all the other household issues. Someone had to be in charge.”

“Go ahead, boss,” Jim said, leaning dramatically against a wall, just for the sake of worrying and annoying their doctor.

“Spock, take your boxes in the first room to the right, here. It is the largest one. You can fit your desk in a corner… okay maybe not in a corner, rather you’ll occupy half of the room with it; to satisfy your pleasure of small things, you get a small bed and Leonard’s collection of miniature owls. Let me not see dust on them!”

Spock stopped unpacking boxes and turned his head slowly towards Sarek, looking as if he wanted to say something really hurtful; for a short moment, everyone held their breath.

“Miniature owls?” he just said.

It made Scotty and Jim laugh like crazy; Sarek lifted one eye-brow and pointed to box number 6, a pretty large one, and Leonard turned red.

“I can explain!”

Amused, Sarek resumed the household discussion.

“James will take the small room in the back, the one which Spock and Leonard wanted to take for themselves. James, you will be fine there. It is indeed small, but not claustrophobic and your training gear can be installed on the western wall. Just be careful with the drill machine as all walls are made of concrete. Your tools are in this piece of luggage here and I will ask you to ensure the safety of all things that come into the apartment. You are our Captain, after all,” he said with a smile.

“Right! Crew, you heard what was said. I will look after you, lot. Ah the drills we will make!!!”

“I do hope that by drills you are referring to actually making holes into the walls and not… fire-drills and such… We live at the bloody 7th floor…” Scotty complained. He just hated fire-drills.

“I am referring to fun and healthy activities to ensure you are all alert and safe and on great shape!” Jim exclaimed joyously, rubbing his hands in excitement. Yes, they will all get in great shape pretty soon.

“And what do we mean by ‘training gear’ please?” Scotty inquired on an adorable tone, hoping to be excused from trying it.

“A pull-up bar with several grip positions, weights…” Jim said.

“All of which are in these boxes over here, that you were just complaining to have carried up the stairs,” Sarek teased him.

“I wasn’t complaining!! Okay, I was complaining! And just because I am 23 and you are 45, it doesn’t mean you cannot lift anything! You’ll see the amount of weights you’ll lift every day now, you’ll see!”

“A fair point, Captain,” Sarek replied on the same amused tone. “And thank you for flattering me but let me assure you I am not 45 years old in the least.”

“No? Then how old are you?” Jim asked, sincerely surprised, he really looked in his forties and, quite honestly, he had not checked his record in order to memorise it down to the last detail. The man looked good.

“I am 61 years old, my dear boy.”

“You are?” Jim asked rubbing his face. “He is?” he next asked Scotty.

“Yep,” Scotty replied, quite proudly actually.

“Wow,” Jim murmured. He sure hoped he would look that good at 61 years old… if he were still alive, of course – something which was doubtful, given the lifestyle they had chosen and the amount of danger that seemed never-ending.

“As for you, youngling, you get the middle room, near the kitchen, to the right.”

“Whaaaaaaat? What about you?”

“I will sleep on the sofa in the living room. I do not sleep much, so my makeshift bed won’t necessarily disturb you when you wake up. I evaluate that I am the one who wakes up the earliest.”

“No!!! Waitwaitwait. I want to share one room with you!!” Scotty exclaimed. He was upset.

The other ones were rather surprised too, because they… well, they seemed to be together… somehow.

“Simon…” he murmured. “Pardon me. _Scotty_. I still have to get used to all the nicknames. Come on, let us talk.”

Jim and Spock exchanged one look. Yes, those two people had to talk and decide what they kept wanting to do to each other. Jim gingerly wrapped one arm around each one’s shoulders and took them to the room which had remained unassigned. They had already started talking something about how they should not share a bed and about their complicated past, so they were not actually paying attention to Jim who gently guided them inside the room and closed the door. With the key. From the outside.

“…your friends will say that I am once more abusing you.”

Scotty felt like he was going to severely lose it. He pointed his finger at him menacingly.

“You, stubborn, selfish man! You do not care about me, do you? All you care about is what your son thinks of you! Of what the others will say! What about what I say, damn you, huh? What About Me?” he was almost yelling but he did not care anymore. This had to happen sometimes.

Sarek cupped his face, firmly, looking into his eyes.

“I am the absolute worst person in existence,” he said simply. “You heard it on the news. You heard it from my son. You heard it from my son’s mate. Anyone will tell you the exact same thing. Why do you keep wanting to do this to yourself? Why, Scotty? You are young, beautiful, smart…”

“Did you ever care for me?” Scotty asked, his little voice trembling with sorrow, with unhidden pain, with the dread of losing all hopes because they had had this conversation numerous times and they never managed to reach a conclusion.

Sarek lifted him up and placed him on the bed, sitting near him and holding his hand.

“That day in the Court, when you gave your statement and said all those terrible and untrue things, about how you always consented to all I did to you, about how I never really abused you because you would always say yes.”

“I never said no.”

“That does not equal to saying yes.”

“I said yes. I willingly went to your bed. You will never convince me of the fact that you abused me, because you never did.”

Sarek closed his eyes for a second.

“I wish I were that character from the film, that Vulcan diplomat who was able to always control his emotions and read the minds of others. I really wish I could read your mind.”

“Why?”

“To ensure that you haven’t lost it, as it certainly seems.”

Scotty took his hand and placed it on his cheek, mimicking a mind-meld from one of the Star Trek movies.

“Go ahead, read it,” he murmured, pulling him closer, closer, until once again their lips met.

Sarek kissed him; he kissed him again, taking a good hold of his hair, wanting to just become one with him and regretting that those movie-melds were not possible in reality; all he wanted was to hold him so tight and to just never let him go, to feel he… deserved him and that he won’t wake up the next morning to find him gone.

“You remember when you used to tie me to the bed and ask me to call you ‘Master’? and then you would…”

“I remember perfectly well,” Sarek replied, ashamed of himself. Yes, he had put into practice every single BDSM fantasy he had had with the young man giving himself to him. So many times, he had almost killed him.

“It was never just a game to me,” Scotty said, shyly wrapping his arms around his neck. "It felt right to me. You were my owner, you could do to me whatever the hell you wanted. I meant it when I called you that way.”

“Yes, my beloved. You told me. However, it was just a game to me, and I am very ashamed for that.”

“So make it right now, Master, because you still are my owner, and that cannot change until he day I die.”

Sarek lay over him, heavily, he had a thirst of him like never before, there was not a single cell in his body, a single piece of his soul, shattered as it was, that did not scream to embrace the one whom he loved, the only one.

“I have only one question before I completely lose my mind. Scotty, before having met me… did you even… like men?”

“Whether I liked men or women, it had – and it has – no importance. Whether you are good or bad, it also has no importance. And whether you are 61 and I am 23, again, it does not matter. You are the one I love, and this is the only think which has importance.”

It was as if Time – the unstoppable, merciless Time which has us all at its mercy – had stood still, and Sarek felt he could finally have his mate, and not feel guilt, anguish and despair. With hungry gestures, he removed his own clothes and then Scotty’s. He knew his body and yet, it was as if he was seeing it for the very first time. He could feel what Scotty needed and wanted. He wanted to feel it was safe to give up control; that it was okay to do so, because the one having control was good, kind and would not abandon him. With firm gestures he turned him on his belly, like he had done dozens of times – and still, it felt new. He took him, holding him tight and allowing his own soul to sink into the sublime love and submission coming from his mate – which were his most cherished possessions – his only possessions.

 

It was not easy to move to a different city and to start all over. But East London worked well for them, they had settled into a good, comfortable routine.

Spock loved how he had time to compose and to promote his own music – classical chamber music pieces, mostly trios and quartets which he painstakingly recorded himself and signed with the nickname of AnJoan Grey. His collection of musical instruments grew ever larger and everyone hoped he will not want a grand piano for his birthday. And he continued to write fan fiction in which Spock and Leonard McCoy were the one-true-pair. He was working on finishing a story which was based on real facts and which was entitled “How I Started Living In A Story” and his father and fellow flatmates were the most avid readers.

Leonard worked at the hospital and, as expected, he had to continuously treat his flatmates, constantly mumbling that he was an emergency medicine doctor and not a family doctor who treats common colds and weight-lifting accidents. He was happy; each night, in bed with Spock, he would read story chapters and listen to music and make love; and he still had absolutely no idea what Spock’s real name was. He insisted not to.

Jim did not mind not having a mate. He took pride in looking after them, going out with each of them when it was necessary, making sure they were not being followed. He was their safe-keeper, their guardian.

They were watching Star Trek episodes each evening in the living room, and each new evening, Spock seemed to find pretexts to sit next to his father.

“Where are you going, son?” Sarek asked.

“I need some cables from the nearby depot, if I may,” Spock replied without thinking.

“You may. What time will you be returning?”

“In thirty minutes.”

“Very well, I am paging Jim to accompany you.”

“Sure,” Spock said mindlessly, placing one knee on the floor to tie his shoelaces, not realising he had asked for his permission and that permission had been given, and that this was an altogether strange dialogue between two people who – despite being father and son – used to hate each other.

Then, Spock seemed to realize and stopped tying his shoelaces.

He lifted his eyes towards his Father and then slowly got up. He felt tears gathering, his own soul filled with an indescribable emotion.

“What is goin’ on?” Scotty inquired coming near them. “Did you – did you guys have a fight?”

The tension must have been perceived by the other two inhabitants, who quickly came to the hallway.

“Okay, one of you better start saying somethin’ because we are freaking out here,” Scotty spoke again. Really, they were just staring at each other in silence, like two jaguars ready to jump at one another.

“There is nothing to be worried about, gentlemen,” Sarek spoke. “My son asked for permission to go outside to buy something, and I granted it to him.”

Scotty, Jim and Leonard exchanged confused looks. The last couple of weeks had been a bit strange, with Sarek consolidating his role of head of their small household and Spock generally defying him, by deviating from every single rule just a bit… just enough so as not to make things as required.

Sarek came closer to Spock, placing his hands on his shoulders.

Spock placed his hands on his wrists, as if he wanted to remove himself from his grip – but instead he remained like that, just staring at him, not moving.

“Forgive me, son,” the older man spoke.

Spock held his wrists tight, tight, to the point of breaking the fragile bones. He so wanted to hurt him, to make him feel the pain he had felt for so long… but was it still necessary? Had he not felt equal pain, had he not endured loss and heartache and despair as well? What point was there to keep stabbing each other, when all he wanted… all he wanted…

He removed his right hand from his shoulder and slowly lifted it to his lips.

There would finally be peace.

 

*

Thank you for having read _How I Started Living In A Story!_ It was not the usual Star Trek story – so if at times it made you uncomfortable, I apologize. They still live in a story and they are at peace, even though wars are still raging around us all. And each morning, Spock kisses his Father’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Story by AnJoan Grey
> 
> https://anjoangrey.wordpress.com/  
> https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC_Vt5fmz_nBzkJ8GENVXPdw
> 
> It is not dangerous to hang out with AnJoan Grey  
> https://www.facebook.com/AnJoan-Grey-1396337104020854/


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